Exhibition Bella
by Team Cullen Boys
Summary: Edward is the artist. Bella is the muse.
1. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER ONE**

_Sitting around and waiting for your muse is not the best choice._

_- Kristin Hannah -_

To understand how we came to be together you first have to understand my failure. During my senior year of college at Washington State University I won an opportunity for an individual exhibition at the end of the school year. It was an incredible opportunity for anyone and I was thrilled to finally showcase my work on a platform that wouldn't be neglected by the elites of the art world. But, the day I showed my work to my art professor he was largely unimpressed by the pieces I thought were deep and moving.

"This is mediocre Edward," he said. "This is conventional. It is practically laughable. This is not how you want to represent yourself in your opening exhibition" Professor Berty shook his head at my pictures.

"Professor Berty this isn't the complete work, it's only the pictures and drawings, my plan is to have a multimedia exhibition I can show you—" I said excitedly fumbling around my cluttered studio space looking for evidence to prove to Mr. Berty that I was worthy of praise. I was and still am the kind of creature that survives on praise. I do not take well to rejection and I try desperately to grasp the approval of others.

"It's not your work Edward, your work is technically sound and aesthetically pleasing but it holds nothing. It's your model, who is she?"

"No one" I replied suddenly ashamed of the girl that I had thought to be a stunningly slight representation of the 21st century female. Understand that at the time I didn't give much thought to women as actual beings, growing up without a mother… sister… or any real female presence left me bereft in terms of female intellectuality or sexuality. Women in general seemed very foreign to me as functioning people. Although I admired their beauty and envied their sentimentality I couldn't quite grasp the distinct concepts of womanhood and motherhood.

"No one? Let me guess she's a European actress trying to catch a break in the American entertainment sector through an indie exhibition."

"She's actually a Slovakian model looking for a work visa" I smartly replied as if that sounded any better.

"Are you in love with her?"

"Mr. Berty I don't know what love has to do with art—"

Again my 21-year-old self didn't seem to connect the two; in fact my 21-year-old self didn't connect a lot of things at the time.

"But you've had sex with her?"

"Uh—yeah I guess you can say that."

"I can tell. I stuck my neck out on the line for you Edward; I have very big art donors attending this exhibition. They aren't paying for sex; they are paying for desire, beauty, enchantment, young love, the works. Find a new model."

"Find a new model? The exhibition is in four months! I don't have time to redo my entire project. What's wrong with Tanya? She's beautiful—"

"Her beauty isn't the problem—besides the fact that her beauty is artificial. The problem is that you're an artist, you're a photographer and we see her how you see her and you see her as a sex object. Get a new model or cancel the exhibition, I'm not putting my name next to this" Professor Berty walked out of my studio.

At the time I thought I was god's gift to art. I was the embodiment of Picasso, Matisse, Michelangelo, and every great artist that walked before me, known and unknown. I didn't understand what he was saying.

After he was gone I stared at my work, the photographs, the charcoal drawings, the video, the work of my entire senior year was staring at me and it was _mediocre_. And mediocrity is the destruction of art. I wasn't in love with Tanya; I slept with her but that was it. I had never been in love with any woman. How could Professor Berty expect me to convey a feeling I've never felt before?

Looking back on it now I can see where Professor Berty was coming from. Tanya was beautiful but she was safe. She was no different from any model in _Vogue_ or _Harper's Bazaar_ and I didn't capture her in any way that questioned her beauty. There was something void about the way I depicted her.

I can also now see where Professor Berty thought I was sexualizing Tanya with emphasis concentrated solely on her curves, lips, breasts… and not in a "capture the essence" way but in a _highly_ sexualized way. A way that gave illusion to the intense fire that burned within Tanya and the men she consumed… myself being one of those men.

This was not how I wanted to make my introduction the art world. I had to redo all of this but I had no model.

…

I spent the next two weeks looking for a model to no avail, in the last resort of all last resorts I even asked my best friends girlfriends. Alice Brandon said hell no and slapped me in the face while Rosalie Hale was flattered but said Emmett would break my jaw if I displayed her glorious breasts to the world. Granted she was probably right but it left me at a dead end with my exhibition. I looked for beauty everywhere I went but I just couldn't find it. Probably because I was looking for the wrong kind of beauty. I was looking for the kind of beauty Tanya had. The kind that just slapped you in the face and stopped you cold immediately. It was the kind of beauty that caught your attention initially but didn't hold much longer thereafter. I was young and naïve and pigheaded… don't blame me too terribly.

As I sat in my favorite coffee shop looking at pictures that artistic modeling agencies sent me I was grandly underwhelmed with my plethora of options.

Brunette.

Redhead.

Blonde

Another blonde.

Big boobs.

Small boobs.

No boobs.

Manish.

Short.

Tall.

I wasn't looking for any particular body or anything like that but when I looked at the pictures that was all I could think about. They were very easy to categorize with average looks and body types nothing was proprietary about them at all.

"Craigslist?" I heard a soft voice say behind me. "What are you selling?"

Craigslist, I had succumbed to embarrassing measures but I was desperate. Desperate enough to create a Craigslist ad in a coffee shop for the exhibition that could make my career. I wasn't really expecting anyone to reply to my ad unless they were prostitutes or murders but what other options were available to me?

"Nothing" I replied to the voice behind me. "I'm looking for someone."

"A missed connection?"

"No, a model" I sighed typing out my ad not even looking at the girl, I was annoyed by her presence. She had interrupted my stream of consciousness.

"A model? What happened to your old girl? The blonde Russian? You drew beautiful pictures of her."

How did she know that? I didn't ponder the question long.

"She's Slovakian actually" for the first time this woman started this conversation I looked up at her. Her thick brown hair fanned and fell across her face as she looked down at me with a gentle smile. Her wide brown doe eyes gave a small glimpse into something deeper. I didn't know what it was but it sure was interesting searching for it in those brown pools of gentle kindness.

"Well you're an incredible artist. I don't know what you didn't see the Slovakian but if you can't find whatever your looking for in her then I doubt your going to find it on Craigslist."

She was witty too.

She must have been ugly as a child. I've found through my years of experience and dealing with beautiful women that there was a pattern. Women who had been beautiful since the age of 16 often quite, like literally they just quite everything. Why worry about intellect when you have beauty? And I can't really blame them either because if I was a beautiful woman I would have probably done the same thing. I've never met a woman that was beautiful and clever like her so I'm guessing she must have been ugly once. Or at least outwardly awkward. It was the only explanation.

"How did you know about Tanya?" I asked and she rose an eyebrow. "The Slovakian" I explained.

"You've been coming here since you were a freshman, lately your Slovakian friend has been coming with you and when she isn't with you you draw her. I don't mean to pry or snoop but I happen to catch a glimpse of your work when I'm refilling you mug four times an hour."

"That's you? I've always wondered how my coffee never seems low when I'm here, that's why I always come back."

"Guilty as charged, I'm the secret coffee culprit who refills your cup approximately sixteen times a day" she laughed and her girlish giggle sounded like bells. The perfect laugh for my exhibition…

The perfect smile for my exhibition…

The perfect eyes for my exhibition…

Everything about her was new and fresh. I felt as if I could capture her with various methods but still only graze the surface of who she was. All the photographs and paintings in the world couldn't reach the depth of her eyes, her smile, her laugh.

"Hey" I called out once she had turned to leave. "Come sit with me for a moment."

"Don't get too enchanted by me refilling your mug. The only reason I do is because you leave such generous tips" she replied turning to leave again.

"Please, I could really use some conversation to get the creative juices flowing again."

She looked wary, "I have to work."

"There's no one here besides you, me, and the old geezer reading last weeks newspaper" I smirked. "Take a load off."

"I guess I could sit for a minute," she decided taking the seat opposite of me.

I looked at her critically for a moment. Her skin was pale, but I guess that's to be expected of anyone living in the sunless state of Washington. Her hair was long, thick, and a little unruly. She wore no make up, at least none that I could see; yet she captured something.

"What's your name?" I asked suddenly.

"Bella" _Bella_, beautiful in Italian.

Adding to her many attributes Bella blushed, madly.

"How long have you worked here?"

"Four years."

"Really?" I wondered then how had she worked here for four years and I have never noticed her? But I know the answer now, it's because I failed to take notice of her. I had seen her hundreds of times before but I never took the conscious effort to actually _look_ at her… mind you it wasn't because she wasn't extraordinary—because believe me she was and still is—it was mainly because I didn't associate with women on the level of cordiality.

"I don't remember ever seeing you."

"Probably because you're too occupied all the time. You don't know me but I definitely know you. Your name is Edward Cullen. You're an art major but are more interested in your own works instead of the works you study in class. You're a bit egotistical and pretentious but and I'm guessing its because you've been spoiled your entire life. Also you're a bit of pessimist."

"Sociology major?"

She shook her head. "Just perceptive." I didn't believe her. "I know your name because you always pay with a credit card, I've never seen actual money pass your hands before unless it was going in the tip jar. I know you're an art major because we've had three courses together since I'm an art history minor and you don't seem to appreciate the works of the past so I assume your egotistical. I've guess your spoiled because while the rest of us poor college kids are bussing tables to afford the beef Ramin noodles instead of chicken your driving a vintage Aston. And finally I conclude that you're a pessimist based on the books you bring in here for your Sunday readings, you're also a man of distinct habit for a reclusive artist."

Okay, she was perceptive and I obviously wasn't because if she knew all this about me why didn't I know anything about her?

"Okay, you've got me pegged but I do take a bit of offense to the egotistical, pretentious comment. So, Bella if you're not a sociology/psychic major what are you?"

"English."

"I thought about majoring in English but the people in that department are complete lit-snobs, you know going on about Melville, Proust, Ezra Pound, etc. substitute any elitist modernist or postmodernist writer you want, they take the joy out of reading with their theories and analysis of every syllable and comma. Besides I'm sure they spend their weekends reading Sylvia Plath…present company excluded."

"Why do I feel like _you_ spend your weekends reading Sylvia Plath?" she smirked. "Actually I _have_ seen you reading Sylvia Plath on a Sunday morning."

I chuckled at her honest assumption "She and Gertrude Stein keep me warm on Saturday nights."

"I can't imagine how, Plath is an object of her overwhelming emotions and Stein is the epitome of an elitist American expat European modernist. But probably not to you since you're an elitist yourself."

She was challenging me as she did everyday thereafter.

"What happened to the customers always right?"

"You invited me to sit down with you so your getting my honest opinion" she replied.

"Well your honest opinion is quite refreshing, invigorating even."

I had never had such a friendly banter with a girl before that wasn't strained and awkward. I liked Bella.

"Thank you" she blushed again. "How is your presentation going by the way? I have a friend who is an Art History major as well and she mentioned your big presentation coming in May, she said you won some competition between all the students in the art department for the slot."

"Since you asked its actually going quite awfully. Professor Berty demolished my original project. He said it was the model; I haven't been able to find anyone to fit what I am looking for."

In fact I really didn't know what I was looking for. I was anticipating divine intervention to summon a girl to me in grand fashion lowering her from the clouds while an angel shout from the heavens "THIS IS HER! THIS IS GODS CREATION FOR YOU TO BEHOLD!"

Unfortunately that didn't happen but I feel like this was good second in terms of divine intervention.

"Maybe what you're looking for doesn't exist," she said next and I wanted to disagree with her then and there. Maybe what I was looking for had been under my nose this entire time, she's been here in my favorite local coffee shop for the last four years and I didn't look up from my book of sorrowful Sylvia Plath woes to notice her. "I'm sure you'll find someone, you're handsome, girls would probably line up at your door to pose for you, and if not you've always got Gertrude and Sylvia to keep you warm."

I loved her sense of humor, her wittiness.

At that very moment my mind retreated back into a course I took sophomore on inspiration in art, the main portion of the class focusing on muses. The different muses in history and their importance in art and I recalled a quote somewhere at the beginning of the course from David Bailey who said "muses find me, rather than the other way around."

Perhaps that is the story here. I've been searching for a muse but maybe… just maybe she was planted right here in this coffee shop specifically for me?

Nah. I'm not that optimistic but the idea of it was certainly intriguing.

"What if you modeled for me?" I blurted out.

She laughed again. "Me? I don't look anything like the Slovakian girl."

"I don't want anyone like Tanya, if I did I'd have 50 girls already. I want someone like you. Someone smart and beautiful and witty and brunette…"

"Brunette? If that's what you want then you could have 50 more girls as well, honestly I don't think I'm what your looking for."

"Come on Bella, you've known me for four years—" I leaned over the table taking her small, fragile hands in mine jokingly watching her eyes light up with laughter.

"Yes I've known you for four years but you haven't know me. You just learned my name five minutes ago."

"And what a beautiful name it is—"

"I'm not a model Edward."

"I'm not looking for a "model" per se but I'm more so looking for a girl to _model_ for me."

"I don't think I can do that either—"

"You're not even modeling really. I just want to capture your life, your body. Nothing is strategically staged. I want you just how you are now."

She bit her lip nervously; I'd have loved to capture that moment on film. I'll save it for next time though.

"These are just photographs?"

"Not really, it's a multimedia exhibition so there will be photographs as well as charcoal drawings, paintings, video, sound art…"

"You're going to accomplish all this by May?"

"I'm going to try to, it would go along a lot quicker if you would have said yes five minutes ago."

"Say yes? I don't even know what I'm agreeing to."

"You're agreeing to be my muse."

"Isn't a muse someone your in love with?"

"Not always. A muse is the female counterpart to the male artist, she inspires and protects and helps the artist break down all social, physical, and emotional barriers that prevent his work from reaching its full potential," I answered repeating Mr. Berty's personal definition of the concept of the muse.

"You think I can do all this for you?"

"I think you already have."

From that moment on my life was never the same because Bella had infiltrated my psyche, she didn't know it but from then on all my actions were measured by her approval. I would lay my life on the line for the pretty brunette in the local coffee shop.

* * *

**I hope you all enjoyed Chapter One of this new story. I think I'll post a new chapter every Friday or Saturday so I can stay on a schedule. **

**I'd love to hear what your take on this story is, any comments or constructive criticisms are welcome and highly appreciated! **

**Thanks!**


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO**

"I am your own way of looking at things," she said. "When you allow me to live with you, every glance at the world around you will be a sort of salvation"

-William Strafford-

"When I agreed to do this you didn't tell me that I'd be getting a roommate."

"It's apart of the process for the photographs and drawings I want you to be as comfortable and natural as possible since you won't pose for me. Besides where else would you feel this way than besides your own home?" I asked tossing down my duffle bag on the ground. "Anyways we've been studying art immersion this quarter. Instead of going to a foreign country I'm living in in your apartment. Same concept."

Would it be wrong if I admitted this was kind of BS. Sure we had actually been studying art immersion and the benefit it could have on the artist but I was really trying to get closer to Bella. She intrigued me so much that I wanted to know practically everything about her.

"Yeah, yeah… I feel like this is some kind of scheme to get out of paying your rent for the next couple of weeks. How long are you staying anyways?"

"However long it takes to create the images I want," I replied coolly looking around her apartment. It was a bit unnervingly tidy. The bed was made, no dishes in the sink, no paint droplets on the rug, or rings on the coffee table from neglecting to use a coaster, it was the complete opposite of my studio apartment.

"Okay well you're sleeping on the sofa, I have sheets and pillows laid out, the bathroom is to the right, and please let the seat down when you… _go_."

"Anything else?"

I didn't bother even arguing with her about the toilet seat. It was involuntary.

"Um… no I don't think so, coffee pot comes on at 6:00 so don't freak out when it smells like the coffee shop."

"Alright" I said, the coffee wouldn't bother me. I'm an early riser; I'll probably be up before the coffee pot.

"Okay."

We were at a silent standoff both staring at each other but not saying anything. It was kind of fun for me. I got to focus on all the little things that made Bella… _Bella_. Her left eyebrow was thicker than her right. There were a few scattered freckles on her nose. And one of her eyelashes on her right eye grew straight down as if it was weighed down by such intense gravity that it couldn't possibly curl in unison with the rest of her lashes.

She must not have found the silence as enthralling as I did because she asked, "Do you want dinner?"

"You'll have to let me buy," I told her.

"But you're my guest" she retaliated.

"And you're my muse, surely you deserve some form of compensation."

"I already told you I won't accept your money, it will make me feel like a prostitute."

"Fine then can I at least chip in on the rent since I will be living here for a while, like a roommate situation" I offered since she refused to take a working wage from me.

"I can allow that" she compromised. "But as for dinner, are you willing to go on a hunger strike or will you tear down your misogynistic ideals for one night and allow me to pay for Chinese takeout?"

My stomach growled loudly.

"I take that as a yes" she smirked and went over to the phone picking up the kitchen magnet off her refrigerator that I assumed to be from a local Chinese restaurant.

"Can I get an order of shrimp friend rice with a side of shrimp and soy sauce. Edward what do you want?"

"Lo mein and eggrolls" I answered.

"And an order of lo mein and eggrolls. Thanks" she hung up the phone and greeted me in the living room. "I'm going to take a shower. If the delivery guy comes before I get out my wallet is on the counter."

Once I hear the water kick on I took it upon myself to familiarize myself with this apartment. Or in shorter words I was snooping. Now I wasn't going through her underwear drawer or anything invasive like that but I did look at her nightstand to see what she is currently reading, her bookshelf to see what she has read and the trinkets on her dresser. She wasn't one for jewelry I can tell you that but she did have an interesting repertoire of books—I guess that is to be expected of an English major. I got lost reading the titles that I almost didn't hear the doorbell ring with the delivery of dinner.

"Hey man its 21.39" the teenaged delivery boy announced once I opened the door. I handed him two twenty's from my back pocket and sent him on his way. After I took the food to the kitchen I heard the hastening sound of little footsteps coming my way.

It was Bella, standing before me, wet from her shower, bra-less wearing a faded t-shirt twice her size with a bluebird on it. Her wet hair fell down her back and her wide eyes were staring at me expectantly like she wanted something.

"Edward? Hello? Edward?"

Was she talking to me all this time?

"I'm sorry you were saying something?" I tried to shake the physical image of her out of my mind.

"Did you get the money from my wallet?" she asked.

"Um—no I forgot."

With hands on her hips now her beautiful doe eyes met mine with scorn.

"You forgot?"

"Honest mistake."

"I somehow don't believe it was really that honest of a mistake" she rolled her eyes and reached on her tippy toes to get plates from the cabinet. I quietly towered over her and retrieved the plates with minimal effort.

"If you don't mind me asking why do you keep your plates so far out of reach considering your vertical deficiency."

"Vertical deficiency?" she laughed. "If you must know I hate doing dishes. So if I keep my plates high in the cabinet it minimizes the probability of me actually wanting to put in the extra effort to get them down. But since I have a guest tonight and maybe for the next four months I'm willing to make an exception."

"Contrary, don't change your lazy habits just for me" I replied taking the plates from her hands and returning them to their rightful position on the top shelf.

"I'm sorry I just assumed you were too entitled to eat out of a cardboard carton" she joked taking the food from the paper bag and lying it out on her kitchen table. "Would you like something to drink? Water, orange juice, wine?"

I would actually like a glass of wine but I'm sure that the alcohol would greatly inhibit my ability to stay on my toes, which was a requirement when dealing with an ingenious girl like Bella.

"Water please."

She returned with two mason jars full of water and sat opposite me.

Silence yet again.

This ensued for a while, through two eggrolls and four mouthfuls of lo mein.

Even though I liked the quiet it didn't tell me much about the woman I was dealing with so I decided to break the silence, "What's one of your favorite quotes?"

She thought about it for a moment and finally said, "To be loved is very demoralizing. Katherine Hepburn."

"True words. But I never thought you'd be such a realist."

"There's a lot you don't know about me" she smirked.

"Like what?"

"That I have a strong inclination to deep 19th century romances but I understand that that kind of love is very rare. I don't expect to ever have that in my life" she pushed her food around with her fork then asked "What's yours?"

"Everything in the world is about sex except sex. Sex is about power. Oscar Wilde."

As times went on my favorite quote changed from that one many times. In fact I'll be willing to state that my favorite quote changes on a nearly monthly or even weekly basis.

"You're a bit of a cynic Edward. Wasn't it Oscar Wilde who said, 'a dreamer is one who finds his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees dawn before the rest of the world' you should be ashamed of yourself for using his name in pursuit of your pessimism."

I responded with another quote to continue this game of cat and mouse that we were playing. "What is a cynic? A man who knows the price of everything but the value of nothing. Oscar Wilde."

"And you are such a man Edward Cullen."

"I'll grant you that. Go on, give me another quote."

"Alright, 'I have a hat. It is graceful and feminine and gives me a certain dignity, as if I were attending a state funeral or something. Someday I may get up enough courage to wear it, instead of carrying it.' Erma Bombeck."

Without knowing, or perhaps with full knowledge, Bella Swan told me everything I needed to know about her. She believes in the empowered woman, a gentle form of feminism. She is a delicate soul but she tries to disgruntle this by claiming she's a realist. She's torn by her self-confidence. She wears her heart on her sleeve and loves without warranty.

"Your turn."

So I decided to do the unbridled and share as well. "Things are sweeter when they're lost. I know because once I wanted something and got it. It was the only thing I ever wanted, and when I got it, it turned to dust in my hand. F. Scott Fitzgerald."

"What did you lose?" she asked quietly.

"Something I can't get back."

…

The following morning after our sharing experience I took out my camera. This wasn't for my showcase but rather for planning. I wanted to see how the camera picked up Bella and perhaps I could use some of the more mundane shots as fillers. It was 5:30 and after brushing my teeth and throwing on some clothes I took pictures of the inanimate objects in Bella's apartment. The take-out menus in the drawer by the fridge, her vast collection of leather backed books, the photograph of her as a beaming child wearing a police officers hat that was far too big for her head. I took photographs of her bathroom, the towel thrown haphazardly on its rack, the hairbrush by the sink, her green toothbrush…

At 6:00 the coffee pot crowed like rooster, I guess it served as an alarm clock for Bella because I heard her rustle as soon as the machine roared to life. Adding to the list of things I already know about her, Bella is a light sleeper.

From the living room I heard her yawn, and begin to pad her way into the kitchen. I quite liked the sound of Bella's feet clicking their way through these old, worn wooden floors.

"Morning" she said in a gruff, hoarse voice. Her creamy bare legs went uncovered as she modeled the same blue bird t-shirt. "Do you want coffee?"

"I could use a cup" I replied following her into the kitchen with my camera. I took a seat on her countertop and watched her ritual of morning coffee. I captured the moment.

"It's really too early for this, I'm not even wearing a bra."

"I like you braless, it's real."

I took another picture of her chest, nips and all with that blue bird emblazed on shirt.

"Edward!" she covered herself.

"Don't look at me. Pretend I'm not here."

"It's kind of hard to do that. It's not everyday that I have a 6'5 ginger sitting on my counters."

"I'm not a ginger," I laughed.

"Are you implying you have a soul?"

"I would never" I smirked back.

She shook her head and asked, "How do you take your coffee?"

"Black, like my absent soul."

"Well here you soulless vampire, coffee to satiate your desires" she handed me the pink mug. I would not have taken her for a girl who drinks her coffee from pink mugs with inspirational sayings on them but… to each his own.

She must have read my mind… or at least my facial expressions when she said, "It counterbalances my realism."

Makes sense. She gets by the doom and gloom of everyday realities with inspirational sayings like "It's never to late to be what you might have been" and "All our dreams can come true—if we have the courage to pursue them."

"So what are we doing today besides drinking coffee out of horrifically uninspiring pink mugs?"

"We're going to the farmer's market," she announced.

"The grocery store?"

"No the farmers market. I like my fruit and veggies organically grown with no pesticides or hormones. Besides it's a great way to support our local farmers. If we don't who will?"

"Hmm… I don't know corporations that mass produce milk and vegetables."

"And you wonder why I call you an elitist?" she replied. "I'll just be a minute I'm going to put on some clothes."

"Don't forget that bra!" I called after her.

She was dressed and ready to go in less than fifteen minutes with a wallet and burlap sack in hand and aviator sunglasses pushing her slightly wet messy brown hair back. It was the nice image. Her Sunday routine, captured.

"Edward!"

"I'm here to photograph you Bella, just doing my job. It would go a lot smoother if you didn't look at me," I reminded her.

"Sorry, I'm just a bit confused on when I should look at you and when I shouldn't."

"Don't treat me any different. Pretend I don't even have a camera in my hand."

"I'll try, I really don't know what you find so interesting about my boring life."

"_You_ are what I find interesting about your boring life."

The doe eyed, blush look followed and I captured it. It has come to be my favorite expression of hers.

"Uh—um lets go," she stammered shuffling her way out the door.

…

"Thanks for helping me put up the groceries but I have to get to work so…"

"So…? You want me to stay here?" I questioned.

"I mean you can come to work with me if you want but, I'd rather you not but…"

"You'd like me to stay at home like a househusband?"

"Well if you weren't unemployed you wouldn't have to be a househusband."

"I'm not _unemployed_ I have a job, I'm an independent starving artist."

She rolled her eyes unbelievingly. "You're definitely not a starving artist, you're a bored hipster."

"Hipster? That's inanely offensive. And have you seen my loft? I'm definitely starving."

"I feel like its intentional starvation, it probably induces your artistic inspiration."

"You induce my artistic inspiration" I teased.

"I have to go Edward, lock up if you leave."

"Bye Bella," I don't know what possessed me to do this but I kissed her on her cheek and she went on her way.

After she was gone the apartment was void of life, of Bella. So I went in search of her through her artifacts again. I happened upon a photo album while browsing through her many books again and began to rummage through the photos of her younger life. Her father was a police officer it seems like and her mother well… I don't know what her mother did but she intrigued me. There were these photographs of Bella as a child; around 6 cradled in her mothers arms while she read to her, there was another of Bella in a pink tutu in a ballet class, her at her high school graduation, her in a yellow diner dress leaning over bar, and various relaxed settings. She grew up in what seems like a happy and content home. But the picture that stood out to me was one where Bella looked to be about 18. Her feet were curled up underneath her, her wild hair splayed her face and a book was in her hand. Specifically the book _Pride and Prejudice_ by Jane Austen. The photograph looked familiar but I couldn't remember for the life of me where I'd seen it before.

It was then time for a trip down memory lane. I took the photograph, my wallet, and headed out the door.

I ended up back home. I haven't been home since Christmas. I unlocked the door and called out "Dad!"

It took a minute but eventually my dad rounded the corner with a newspaper and a surprised grin. My dad, Carlisle Cullen, is probably the most honest trustworthy guy on the face of this earth. He meant the absolute world to me and I took him for granted 98% of the year. He was too good to me. Carlisle saw the best in me always; there was nothing I could ever do that was wrong in his eyes. Sometimes I think he puts too much faith in me.

He pays for my college, my car, my loft, my art materials, my livelihood basically and I had very little to show for it besides some sketching's of nude models—which he says are exquisite… but that's besides the point. This exposition meant a lot to me because I wanted to show my dad that all this time and money he put into me wasn't for nothing. That investing his hard earned money in a 21 year old art major wasn't a worthless gamble. I needed to show him that I could be something.

"Edward, son!"

A man hug followed and then he asked me what I was doing home.

"I actually need your help, I'm working on my exhibition and I have a new model."

"What happened to the girl you brought home for Christmas?"

"Apparently she's not good enough. Which is why I've found a muse."

"A muse? Sounds very _Dali_ of you."

"Dad, do not equate me to Dali" I shook my head with mock disdain, my dad was only feeding into my intense superiority complex.

"Not yet anyway" he smirked. "What can I help you with?"

"This picture" I handed the photograph of Bella to him. "Do you think you've seen it before?"

He was quiet. My father had always been a rather somber man but the way this silence commanded him frightened me a bit.

"Seen it before? This girl is an absolute doppelgänger for Elizabeth. I took a picture just like it back when Elizabeth was around 20" my dad stared disbelievingly at the photo, that must be where I remember it.

"Can I see it?"

"Um—yeah" he was at a loss for words, odd for Carlisle he typically always knew what to say when the moment presented itself. "I have to go through some boxes, just one moment."

I took a seat in the family room and waited for my dad to come back. Growing up it was always just my dad and I—and a part-time nanny. He'd throw baseballs with me in the afternoon then cook dinner and tuck me in at night. I never had that a strong maternal nurturing when I was a child but I was nurtured and loved by Carlisle who was better than many mothers out there now. He encouraged my need for knowledge and always kept our home furnished with intellectually enthralling literature and art. Carlisle works at Seattle Grace hospital he is currently the Chief of Surgery and presides over nearly a hundred young surgeons. Admittedly he wanted me to go into the science and medical field but I just didn't have the love for it that would sustain me through years of medical school and a residency. Carlisle desperately wanted to help people get better and although I'd love to do what he does I am just too… _cynical_ as Bella put it. Regardless he didn't throw sand on my dreams to be an artist. In fact he encouraged it and encouraged me to be the best I could possibly be.

He returned maybe twenty minutes later with an old box marked 1980.

"Sorry it took so long. I stored all of your moms stuff away I haven't gone back and touched it in ages, but if that picture is anywhere to be found its in this box" he said sitting the box on the table. We both went through it looking at various aged pictures from the 80s. "Here it is."

He handed me the picture and I was stunned that he was absolute right. Bella was Elizabeth's doppelgänger. The photos could have nearly been identical if it wasn't for the position of their legs and the backgrounds. Bella's legs were curled into her chest while my moms were slid underneath her to the side. But that same thick brunette hair hung down their shoulders and they both looked up from their books with their wide eyes staring straight at the unknown photographer. They even had the same book in their hands, _Pride and Prejudice_ by Jane Austen.

"Oh wow," I muttered. There were no other words to describe it. It was quite eerie really. I never knew what immediately attracted me to Bella, but I guess I have a clue now. She reminded me of my late mother.

My mother, Elizabeth Cullen died when I was 3, suicide. I don't remember her much except for when she used to kiss me goodnight her hair would dance across my face. Growing up without a mother I guess you could say I had a slight interest in the idea of motherhood and maternal instinct. Perhaps subconsciously that's why I chose Bella as a muse. She liberated the absent maternal presence within me.

"Dad do you still have moms engagement ring?"

"Yeah of course, why do you ask?"

"I need to borrow it for my exhibition."

* * *

**I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. It was a little bit of a filler but you get to know my Edward and Bella a bit better. **

**Leave a comment and tell me what you think!**


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER THREE**

"Muse is a tyrant. It gets you out of bed in the twilight of the morning and forces you to create something!"

- Mehmet Murat ildan -

"Don't take this the wrong way but I want you to wear this" I slid the velvet box with my mothers engagement ring in it across the table to Bella.

"Are you in love with me?" she said upon opening the box. I chuckled at her literary allusion.

"Not in the way you think Daisy" I replied.

"In what way then?"

It was a sound enough question. In what way was I in love with Bella?

"I'm in love with you in an artistic way" I answered immediately.

"Now I feel like you're using me a bit. Regardless, why do you want me to wear this?"

"I'm going a different route with my exhibition. The ring belonged to my late mother. Oddly enough you remind me of her. I just want you to wear it for a couple of poses. I'm not asking you to marry me or anything."

"Well the answer is no."

"The answer to _what_ is no?"

"If you'd have asked me to marry you I would have said no" she replied coyly pushing her hair out of her face and returning to the assignment in her lap.

I wanted so badly to let that little comment slide but I couldn't. I just couldn't. I didn't even want to get married but if I did the only girl I would ever want to marry would be Bella.

"Why would you say no?"

She shrugged indifferently "I'm just not the marriageable type. And you don't seem like the marriageable type either. Two unmarriageable people shouldn't get married."

"Well perhaps it's the exact opposite. Maybe that's the problem with modern marriage. When you have one marriageable partner and one unmarriageable partner together it lends itself to chaos. Now if two marriageable people got together and got married and two unmarriageable people got together and didn't get married well then everyone would be content."

"There's just one flaw in your perfect little matchmaking plan. You can't help who you fall in love with, marriageable or unmarriageable."

"Sure you can," I argued.

"I'm guessing you've never been in love then?" she slyly smirked as if she was right about her little 'love' aphorism.

"I'm just saying why can't we just _not_ get married together? Two unmarriageable people happy and not married?" I replied evading her question.

She didn't answer. Which made me think that maybe one day we really could make something of this.

"What was your mother like?"

"Quiet, a bibliophile, silently pretty, exactly like you."

"What happened to her?"

"Suicide."

"Oh—I'm sorry I didn't mean to bring up anything uncomfortable for you."

"No, don't worry about it. I don't really know why she did it but the fact remains the same. She's gone."

"Is she what you were talking about the other day? When you said you'd lost something?" she asked sliding the ring onto her ring finger of her right hand.

"Left hand please. And yeah I guess so, although I'm not completely aware of her you know? I lost something that didn't really own or know in the first place," I told her. "Don't hide your face."

I was sketching her with charcoal and I was trying to capture her in motion the lightness of her movements and her feet. She was studying for her midterms with books and papers laid before her she sat curled up on the couch with a cup of tea.

It had been a week since I began staying here and I was finally getting some work done. I had already gotten the audio I wanted which included the sound of Bella's feet against the creaky wooden floors, her bluebird-like song in the shower, and various other mundane sounds. I had gotten some pretty good photographs as well, I was just playing with filters and lighting and things like that. But the real highlight of my exhibition was neither the audio of the photographs but the drawings and more importantly the paintings.

"Have you ever been depressed?" I asked her quietly after a silent hiatus.

"Why do you ask?"

"Your eyes" I said. I feel that through this sketch I had found the mystery within her eyes. "They're increasingly sad… and you didn't answer the question."

"Isn't everyone depressed at some point?"

Yes. She was right as she frequently is but I wanted to know precisely why _she_ was depressed.

"What made you so sad?"

"Life" she answered. "Life is depressing sometimes."

"Specifically though?"

"I was depressed because I was confused. I still am confused. Life is just so complicated. I guess I'm complicated."

I waited for her to explain.

She sighed deeply.

"My freshman year of college I realized that the perfect fairytale I had built in my head wasn't real. I was confronted with this reality of the world that countered the one I had found in books. Men weren't knights in shining armor and women were no longer damsels in distress. I didn't know where I fit in the world and it scared me. There are some people that know exactly what they want. I'm not one of those people. And it's depressing."

"If it makes you feel any better I don't know where I fit in the world either."

"Yes you do. You have a talent, you're an artist. You can do something with that. Me? I have to choose something now. Either marriage or a career. And I don't have any prospects for marriage and my career options are limited to schoolteacher or another unemployed English major… so I don't know where that leaves me."

I didn't know what to say to that. I couldn't relate to her on the surface. But there was something deeper about her that I connected with. At the moment I didn't know what it was but I was hoping to find out.

I played with the shading running my thumb across the paper to blur and fade her movements. I was rather impressed with how it turned out, however I didn't know if it was worthy to be used in my exhibition.

As I grew lost in my own work tweaking and perfecting the little things I heard Bella yawn.

"Sleepy?"

"A little."

"Why don't you head off to bed then" I told her trying again to fade the lines on my drawing.

"Are you sure? You don't need me to sit here and inspire you?" she taunted sexily biting that swollen lip of hers.

"If I need you I'll wake you" I promised swallowing the erotic bile rising up within me after watching her blatant display of teasing affection.

As she went off to bed I caught a glimpse of her.

The French doors that separated her bedroom from the living room and kitchen was cracked open a bit and from where I sat on the couch and where she stood in her bedroom I had a near perfect view of the state of undress she was in. A good-natured person would have turned away but I am not good-natured so I stared.

It was one of those "within and without" moments, a time when I stood precariously on the line of "too close and not close enough."

I watched, as her blouse was unbuttoned, slow and methodical. She tossed the garb in the hamper and shimmied out of her pants releasing her milky thighs from their daily chains. She stood there for a moment seeming to admire her own panty-clad figure in the full-length mirror before her. The next to come undone was her lace bra and from it was the bounty of her breasts smooth like porcelain with nipples that practically begged to be bitten. Enlarged and tender from obvious erogenous stimulation I longed to take them between my lips and force her to scream my name as she pulsated with a heat that burned lovingly throughout her diminutive body. She threw her hair behind her arching her back and dancing her pale slender fingers through her brown curls. As she stretched back her beautiful breasts again were turned towards me and I watched as her skin fraught across the bones on her ribcage and sunk deep into the caverns of her prominent clavicles.

Just like that the performance was over. Her bluebird t-shirt was thrown on, her hair was tossed in a bun and she was in bed leaving me with a throbbing boner and an unnatural heartbeat.

I don't know if this display was an act or just Bella in her natural habit but that night I didn't sleep as I sketched the one act play from memory outlining every curve and bone, each hair strand with meticulous certainty. When I finished at 2 in the morning I wasn't satisfied. I still felt I hadn't done her justice. I picked up my keys and headed off to my studio to paint.

I painted on the biggest canvas I had, a large 72x96 cotton Renaissance stretched canvas using the lightest paints I had at my disposal. Pale pinks, muted blues, soft earthy greens and cool browns. But for her nipples, which commanded so much attention, I used a vibrant pink, a mixture of about 8 different colors that were so intimate it would make a 16th century woman blush with impropriety. The color was a color that only a lover would know, the color of swollen sex.

…

I didn't have too many friends mainly because friendship never really appealed to me on a deep interpersonal level. However I did have two friends that were my greatest companions, Emmett McCarty and Jasper Whitlock.

Emmett McCarty was my RA freshman year and you could probably make the claim that he was the worst RA in the history of RA's. I met him once at orientation and I probably wouldn't have talked to him again if I hadn't knocked on his door and complained about my anal roommate (Jasper). During my freshman days Emmett was already 21 and spent the majority of his time passed out drunk in his bedroom. On the off chance he wasn't drunk though he was more than likely higher than Mount Kilimanjaro. And when he did go to class for midterms and finals he was sure to resemble Jesus in that his hair was long and unruly, he had a thick brown Santa beard, and he walked around in 20 degree weather in Chaco sandals and tiny tennis shorts to show off his huge hammock hairy thighs. Despite his appearance and lack of aspiration Emmett McCarty was a genius. He played a few times on the schools mathletes team but only because they promised free beer afterwards. He was proficient in all the STEM subjects and was offered senior level engineering jobs straight out of college but he didn't take any of them. He said he always loved building things so he became an architect. He was an artist in his own respect in that he drew and attempted to create buildings that looked to be structurally defunct. He called it 'architectural irony' (or as I called constructional cynicism) and was paid very handsomely to create such large, odd works of art.

When he became this 'architectural irony' guru he began to take himself a little bit more seriously. He cleaned himself up, stopped wearing shorts meant for 12 year old girls, bought some close toed shoes, and shaved his beard. Once he did this he became an instant panty-dropper. Girls were waiting in line left and right to just stand beneath the 6'5 giant but he fell hard for the Art departments classified goddess Rosalie Hale.

Anyways I met Emmett when I went to his room to complain about my OCD roommate Jasper Whitlock. The kid cleaned constantly making sure that not one single dust particle landed on his pristine Ralph Lauren comforter. Living with a slob like me who did his laundry approximately once a quarter was hard for a guy like Jasper who actually dividing his laundry in dark and light piles. He was a writer and didn't sleep at all staying up all day studying and all night typing away literary prose on his computer. The clickity-clack of his perfectly manicured fingers pressing against those inane keys at 4 in the morning was like nails on a chalkboard. He was quite literally driving me insane with the vacuum cleaner running three times and day and always moving my shit! 19-year-old Edward couldn't deal with it anymore and asked to be moved from the freak in room 341. Emmett gladly moved me in with another slob and there I lived happily.

Only after I moved out of Jasper's room did I realize how cool of a guy he actually was and we became instant friends… we just couldn't live together. Jasper had graduated a year early taking 21 hours each semester and was currently working on his first novel while filling an entry-level editing position at a national publishing house.

The point of me introducing my two friends was because that day happened to be Tuesday and we vowed that no matter how busy we were on Tuesday nights we'd meet up at our favorite bar for drinks and discussion. Granted our favorite bar wasn't really a "cool" place to hang out where there were gloriously drunk women hanging over barstools. But it was a small little cavern in the heart of Seattle underneath a barbershop where indie artists showcased their emotionally gutting music and people conversed over literature and vintage sneakers. These are the kinds of places you hang out at when all of your friends are artists and this is exactly where Jasper met his pixie indie artist girlfriend Alice Brandon.

"So buttercup, what's going on back at UDub?" Emmett asked with a sly smirk in reference to the fact that I was the only one in our group still in college… and unemployed.

"It's going great actually, I've been working a lot on my exhibition."

"Really? Did you finally get rid of that Slovakian girl?" Jasper asked taking a swig of his beer.

"Did everyone just absolutely hate her?" I asked because his tone implied the same contempt Mr. Berty's did.

"We didn't hate her personally Cullen… we hated how you depicted her" Emmett answered.

Yes. Apparently everyone got the picture but me.

"And no one thought to tell me this?" I asked both of them.

"You don't really take well to criticism Edward" Jasper replied.

"I'll remember that next time you ask me to read your rough draft" I countered and heard a chuckle from Emmett.

"So who is the new subject of your piece then?" Emmett questioned.

"A girl named Bella."

"Okay… and what is it about this girl named Bella that makes her so much more special than Tanya was?"

"Everything. I can't explain it, you'll have to see the whole things together," I told them simply because I couldn't think of the words to box in Bella. She was humanly extraordinary and disturbingly complex… and sometimes frustrating.

"You know my house is finally done right?" Emmett changed the subject. He had designed and built his own home with all the cash he was making from his architectural irony pieces. His home was the epitome of architectural irony. I remember him showing me the blueprints and me thinking to myself… how in the hell does he expect to live in this place?

"Yeah well Rose has finally finished decorating and we're having a house warming dinner party this Saturday. You know like an actual adult party with place settings and multiple forks. It isn't really my thing but you know Rose, anyways I'm inviting you two nerds. I know Jasper will be fine but please Edward put on a relatively clean shirt that doesn't have paint on it."

"I don't think I have any shirts without paint on them" I told him turning my sleeve so he could see the yellow paint by my armpit as an example.

"Alice and I would love to come to your dinner party Emmett, I'm assuming this verbal invitation includes a plus one?"

"Of course it'll just be you two and Rose's friend Kate and her fiancée Garrett. So unless Edward wants to be the lone wolf I'm suggesting he brings his new girlfriend Bella."

"Bella is not my girlfriend" I shuttered at the word. Non-committal remember? "Depending on how dressy this thing is I might not even show up."

"Just put on a button-down for Rosalie Edward" Emmett responded.

Emmett's girlfriend Rosalie Hale was my dearest friend. She has been since I was a freshman and she was a sophomore. I was very vain and shallow at that time and I was initially attracted to her because of her looks. She's a clear and present stunner and not in the obvious way like Tanya… but then again she wasn't purely beautiful like Bella. She was an odd creature and she served as the model of many of my underclassman works. Rosalie herself wasn't an artist but she very much appreciated the arts and she worked at the Frye Art Museum as an exhibition designer. Rose didn't start dating Emmett until her senior year. Like I mentioned before Emmett was kind of grossly awkward for the majority of his undergraduate career. Only after he had cleaned up did Rose and everyone else in the world take notice of his potential. Emmett had kept asking me who the girl was that I painted and I told him it was this girl Rosalie and I distinctly recall him flipping his half-dreaded hair out of his face and asking "Dude do you think she'd let me bone her?" and I laughed in his face. Rose wasn't the kind of girl you boned and sent home. She was marriageable and kind.

Despite how close we were and how intimately I depicted her through my art we were really nothing more than friends. She wasn't a muse like Bella. Anyways after Emmett and Rose started dating our artist/model relationship ended quicker than William Henry Harrison's presidency. Emmett just didn't feel comfortable with me seeing Rose naked anymore although he was the only one that had a problem with it since both Rose and I were professionals. Regardless we respected his wishes and I moved on from painting Rose naked to painting other girls naked.

She was doing me a big favor and designing my exhibition so the least I could do was go to her silly dinner party and bring her a glass of wine since she's done so much for me already.

"Fine. Fine. I'll come. I'll ask Bella if she'll come as well but don't be surprised if I show up stag."

"Thanks buddy."

…

I found Bella back at the apartment cuddled up on a knit blanket with a book. It was one of those moments that I loved. There were these quiet moments where Bella succumbed to herself. She didn't do anything extravagant or enthralling but she was just… quiet. Observing her alone was a spectacle… another "within and without" moment.

"Jeez Edward!" she shouted with a fright, gasping when she saw me leaning against the doorframe. "Would it hurt for you to announce yourself?"

"I'm an artist. I'm observing," I told her plopping down on the couch next to her.

"You seem to do a lot of observing yet little creating," she hinted.

"I find it rather difficult to create much here. Your apartment inspires me but doesn't really _will_ me to do much. But trust me I already have a collection of artwork" I took her legs and laid them on top of mine running my fingers across her smooth skin. "How was your day today?"

"It was alright. I read some Plath today and thought about you" she smiled.

"How's my girl Slyvie?"

"Emotionally resilient as always. I also served 57 cups of coffee today."

"I hope you didn't refill anyone else's mugs conspicuously."

"No, no I only do that for you" she laughed tossing her head back.

"Good."

"What did you do today?"

"I went to class for a bit, went back to the studio and painted, then I went to the bar with Jasper and Emmett."

"Who are Jasper and Emmett?" she asked.

"My friends."

"Mhm… the soulless Cullen has a friend, no two friends!"

"I'd venture to say three or four" if you included Rose and Alice.

"Tell me about your friends then."

"Well there's Emmett he's an architect but he specializes in constructional cynicism or architectural irony. He's probably the smartest man you'll absolutely ever meet but has the ambition of three year old. Then there's Jasper who is the complete opposite of Emmett. He was diagnosed with obsessive compulsive disorder when he was sixteen and hasn't come very far in his recovery since then. He's a novelist but he's been working on the same novel for five years and it's almost as long as Moby Dick… I honestly don't think it will ever be completed but who knows."

"And friends three and four?"

"Rosalie and Alice. Rosalie was my main model up until last year she works at the Frye Art Museum as an exhibition designer, she's also shacking up with Emmett. Alice is a little indie artist. And I say little because she literally is less than five feet tall. She has the lyrics of Florence Welch but the voice of Lykke Li."

"So all of your friends are artists in some respect?"

"Pretty much. Actually I'd like to invite you to a dinner party this weekend."

"A dinner party? I didn't think you went to dinner parties" Bella teased nudging my stomach with her toe.

"I don't. It's really more of a favor to Rosalie since she is designing my exhibit free of charge. Also everyone else is going to be coupled up so… you know I don't want to go alone."

"I don't know if I have anything to wear" she smirked.

"I've seen your closet you have plenty of options."

"I'll have to see what I can scrap together but I'd love to come and meet your friends," she winked got up and retreated to her bedroom.

…

Wednesdays I went to see Dr. Hammond. After my moms suicide Dr. Cullen thought it was pertinent that I see a child psychologist, even at the ripe age of 3. So really I've never had independent thoughts beyond the assisted help of a medical therapist. Sad but true. Because of that I've always been acutely aware of how insane I was at any given moment. And when I did have those spare glimpses of mental clarity I always knew that at any moment I could fall into a pit of psychotic shivers.

I clearly had a wonderful childhood.

Dr. Hammond was a tiny frail woman in her early 50s with grey hair and glasses, she was very kind and soft spoken, never one to shout. I should have quit going years ago but Dr. Hammond was like the mother I never had. Although we never had a deep sentimental connection she knew more about me than anyone and never judged me for it.

I sat quietly in the waiting area, sitting across from a 30-something housewife who kept eyeing me over a copy of _People_ magazine as if she was wondering why a grown man was at a children's therapy office without a child.

Dr. Hammond came out shortly ushering a little girl out the door.

"She did great today Heather, she's really improving" Dr. Hammond told the woman who smiled brightly and took her little girls hand. "Edward I'm ready for you."

I walked into Dr. Hammond's office. It hadn't changed much since I was a kid. The room was divided into girl's toys on the left side with a big dollhouse and play kitchen, and boy toys on the right side with a train set and cars. I had asked Dr. Hammond a couple of years ago why she did this and she said it was because she was doing a sort of passive experiment on gender roles in children, her findings were to be published in a psychological journal after it passed a series of boards.

I took a seat on the only other adult size chair in the room, which was a rocking chair. I always found it kind of soothing to lay back in a rocking chair, I never had one growing up and I suppose I'd begun to associate rocking chairs with Dr. Hammond my surrogate maternal figure.

"So Edward, how are things? I haven't seen you in a while, you've cancelled your last three appointments" she noted pulling out what I called her 'Edward notebook of private secrets' (kind of a long name I know but I came up with it when I was six so the name just stuck).

"Yeah I know I've been busy."

"With what?"

"My exhibition. I had to start over from scratch so… I've been spending a lot of my time getting inspired."

I'd venture to say Dr. Hammond knew me better than Carlisle even did because her eyebrow quirked when I finished my sentence.

"Who is doing this inspiring?"

"A girl named Bella."

"Tell me about Bella, who is she to you?"

I thought about it and tried to formulate an answer because she didn't just ask me who Bella was, she specifically asked who she was to me and I didn't have an immediate answer for that question.

"I don't know. My muse I guess."

"Do you spend a lot of time with Bella?"

"I kind of moved in with her… just until my exhibition is over. Her home life really inspires me more than anything but I'm starting to get some ideas for abstraction. Sure I've painted these beautiful pieces but she can also be ugly, not physically but… I don't know emotionally I guess. Sometimes I feel like she's playing with me."

"What makes you feel like that?"

"It's the way we are together. She makes me feel like I'm important… like she loves me… and then she leaves, she goes back to her bedroom and I'm alone."

"She's not your girlfriend Edward" Dr. Hammond reminded me quietly just as my subconscious said the same thing.

"I know that but in my head I think she is. When I paint her I _feel_ her, my brushstrokes and sketching's make me believe she's mine."

"Edward do you have feelings for her?"

"I… feel… things… for her" I said knowing Dr. Hammond knew the intent of my words.

"Beyond physical Edward."

"I don't know… what do feelings feel like?"

"When you have them you'll know. Suddenly it won't be just physical anymore you'll care about the other persons mental and emotional wellbeing far beyond your own concerns even if it means loosing."

That sounded like it sucked. Screw feelings.

"But why does it have to be like that? Why can't I just have her and be happy?"

My cynical subconscious laughed at that. I've never been happy a day in my life.

"Life doesn't work like that. And more importantly relationships don't happen like that. You can't _have_ her Edward, she's not an object of value she's a person with feelings, a person who might share the same feelings you do for her."

I shook my head. "I don't think so. Bella is too good for me she deserves someone that can give her their undivided attention, for me my art will always take precedent. She's beautiful and funny and intelligent and she takes my bullshit with a grain of salt and a tablespoon of sugar. I need to be with another artist, someone who understands that I can't give myself completely to them when I am giving myself completely to canvas and colors. Do you know what I mean? I like to watch her and be around her, in my head I take from Fitzgerald and call these my "within and without" moments because I can't completely be with her. I like the _idea_ of Bella. I'm infatuated by it. In fact that's the subject of my exhibition."

"Why do you think Bella infatuates you so?"

"Because she reminds me of Elizabeth."

"Your mother?"

I nodded again.

"Why?"

"Because she looks like her. I imagine if I ever got to meet my mother for real she'd be just like Bella. A beautiful, sarcastic, bibliophile. Even my dad said Bella looks just like Elizabeth."

"Edward you can't go searching for your mother in the women you become attached to, you'll only end up sorely disappointed" Dr. Hammond warned me, I should have listened to her but I really didn't. I went straight on, full speed, blazing into hurricane Bella with nothing but a windbreaker on.

I didn't reply to that comment because I already knew I was in too deep with this girl and had equated her to something unattainable.

"You mentioned your exhibition is about your mother Edward, tell me about that" Dr. Hammond prodded.

I shrugged.

"Are you finally going to tell me happened to her?" I asked Dr. Hammond. For years I have asked Dr. Hammond if she would tell me the truth about my mother. I know she knew what happened because Carlisle must have told her but she never uttered a word about it.

"I told you to ask your father. It isn't my job to relay information to you, my job is to help you cope with the information once you receive it."

"Well I haven't received any information thus far so are you really doing your job?" I retaliated and then quickly regretted the words as soon as they were said. "I'm sorry."

"You know you don't have to apologize in here. If that's how you really feel then it's perfectly alright to express that."

"I can't ask Carlisle. He's too kind and good, I don't want to bring up anything unsettling for him."

"He has to unearth these feelings just like you. Talk to your dad. I hope this exhibition will bring you the closure you desire," she said and the clock ticked alerting us both that my session was up.

"Before you leave Edward I'd like to discuss your treatment. You know your turning 22 in June and I think it's time you transition to an adult therapist."

"Can't I come here until I'm 25? Aren't I still a child in terms of brain development?" I asked.

"_Technically_ yes, but you're out of my personal age range Edward. I can recommend very good therapists for you to try out—"

"I don't think that will be necessary, at least for three more years. See you next week Dr. Hammond."

* * *

**I am super proud of myself! I have been very good so far at this Friday/Saturday update schedule! **

**Anyways sorry this chapter was mega long! I thought about breaking it up into two separate chapters but didn't have the heart to. **

**Aren't Edward and Bella confusing? I love it! It's a shout out to all other 20-somethings that don't know where they are and what they want to do!**

**Please leave a comment and review! I love reading your reviews! They make my day and force me to write my very best! **

**P.S. I have the outline for this story complete and I'm pretty sure I know how it is going to end. It will probably only be about 8-10 chapters but I am thinking I'll do like two sequels so like completely separate stories from this one kind of like New Moon and Eclipse. I don't know yet just running through ideas but if you have anything better let me ****know!**


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER FOUR**

"One must give himself completely to his art and not hold back. Throw caution to the wind. Embrace the muse. Make love to your art."

- Harley King -

I spent a great deal of time contemplating Dr. Hammond's suggestion to talk to Carlisle and like most of Dr. Hammond's suggestions I took her advice to heart and decided it was finally time to have the much needed conversation with dad.

Reflecting on my life choices now I realize that I should have given Carlisle the space and privacy he had given me. But we all make mistakes and one mistake I made was walking into my dads' house unannounced hoping to have a conversation. When I opened the door I heard rustling in the kitchen and followed the noise someone (I thought it was my dad) was hustling to put the pots and pans back in the bottom cabinet.

"Hey dad, I was wondering if we could talk for a bit, I have something I want to talk to you about, maybe we could go out for lunch? I'm buying." I called out to no reply. "Dad?" still no reply. I got closer to the kitchen and slowly and woman popped up.

She was small with a heart shaped face and perfect almond eyes. Her appearance surprised me. Her curly hair was disheveled and she wore my dads' blue pinstripe pajama shirt. I knew it was his because it was monogrammed CC. Her skinny bare legs were shaking with nervousness as if she was scared of me.

"Hello" I greeted her.

"Uh—um, hi. You must be Edward I'm—" she started to introduce herself but stopped when Carlisle called out for her.

"Esme the skillet is in the cabinet left of the sink" my dad said then rounded the corner wearing the matching bottoms to Esme's impromptu 'nightgown'. I wanted to tell him to put on a shirt but Esme was already wearing his so…

"Hey dad."

"Hey—hey son what are you doing here?" he stammered.

"I came over to see if you wanted to have lunch but it seems to me like you haven't even had breakfast yet" I smirked.

Carlisle was embarrassed now and it made me giddy to see him blush. "Um Edward have you met Esme?"

"Only today" I told him. "Nice to meet you Esme."

"I know first impressions are lasting impressions but I can assure you this is not an accurate representation of my character," she said quickly.

"Of course not."

"About lunch—" Carlisle began.

"Edward mentioned he wanted to talk to you about something. How about we have lunch here together since we're all here? I'll make Italian sausage and pasta with vegetables and you boys can talk out on the deck, it's a lovely day outside" Esme suggested.

"What do you say to that Edward?"

"I say alright, I haven't had a home cooked meal since I was twelve."

"He exaggerates" Carlisle corrected. "I'm just going to hop in the shower, I'll be out momentarily."

Esme went back to the kitchen and began making the necessary preparations for lunch. I hadn't seen a woman in my kitchen since my nanny when I was a child it was a bit unnerving but at the same time a bit comforting oddly enough.

"So Esme, what do you do?" I might as well start vetting her since Carlisle was away. In the 19 years it has been since my mothers absence I have never, not once, seen Carlisle with a woman. Sure I've seen him go on first dates or blind dates but never a real lasting relationship. This woman must be pretty darn special to hold him.

"I'm in art restoration."

Seems like this artist thing does run in the family. "Interesting line of work. I dabble in the occasional painting or two."

"Dabble? I heard you have an entire exhibition showing at the Frye Museum this summer."

"Carlisle told you that?"

She nodded. "He's exceptionally proud of you. He's even showed me a few of your pieces and I can definitely see what all the hype, with everyone going on about abstract and contemporary art yours has a definite infusion of classical romance. It's almost sad."

Indeed it was.

"So art restoration, what do you do with that?"

"Well when conservatives come and damage pieces in museums that are claimed to be satanic or crude I put them back together," she said and I nodded thinking how odd of a job that was. "Just kidding. I only do that sparingly; museums have such heightened security now it's almost impossible for that to happen. But I specialize in artifacts mostly. I make sure artwork and furniture and relics are in their premium condition. Some vases and couches as well, but mostly paintings, and sculptures from the Baroque era to Romanticism."

"What's your favorite?"

"Probably the Baroque era I love the Dutch Golden Age paintings."

"Ah Rembrant, Hals, Jan Steen."

"Just some of the greats" she smiled.

"One of my favorite paintings from that time is _Girl with a Pearl Earring_ by Vermeer. It came to North America for the first time in like 15 years last summer. They had it in an exhibit in the High Museum of Art in Atlanta and I just had to be there. It was my birthday present from my dad. "

"I interned for that restoration back in 1994, what I would give to restore that iconic piece now" she sighed as she popped the sausage in the oven.

"It's really a great painting, I've always wanted to create something like it."

"Why don't you?" she asked boiling linguini now. "Your exhibition would be the perfect place to showcase that. Obviously it wouldn't be a direct replica but if it inspires you then use that to your advantage. Create the new 'girl with a pearl earring'" she advised.

"I'll have to look into that."

"Actually I was just thinking that I should invite some of my art dealer friends to your exhibit. They love vetting new and upcoming artists and from your past work I've seen I should expect nothing but beautiful art from this presentation."

"That would be great. I'll send over some of the exhibit cards as soon as I get them from the designer."

She seemed nice enough and pretty for an older woman.

"Are you and my dad dating?" I asked suddenly.

She blushed and turned around to get a fresh knife to chop the vegetables.

"We've actually been together for about 20 months" she replied.

"Wow, almost 2 years and I wasn't any the wiser."

"In Carlisle's defense he just didn't think it was the right time to throw this on you, we were going to tell you after graduation."

Sure they were.

"So do you have any kids Esme?"

"Unfortunately not. I was married once before but I found out I was barren and that sort of opened my eyes to how loveless my marriage was" the sadness in her eyes was visible as the sunlight.

"I'm sorry to hear that" honestly I was. Esme seemed very nice and it always sucks when bad things happen to nice people. Or more aptly suitable, when good people don't get the things they deserve. "Well if things work out between you and the old man you'll get a 21 year old son that likes to be tucked in at night," I joked to lighten the mood.

"I'd love to have someone to take care of, even a 21 year old boy who likes to be tucked in at night" she smiled.

My dad came back then wearing his usual weekend attire of a pullover sweater and dark denim jeans. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing dad, I'm just really liking your new girlfriend. Or should I say old girlfriend since you've been dating for nearly two years?"

"About that. You know I was going to tell you after you graduated—"

"Don't stress about it. I want you to be happy and I have a feeling Esme makes you very happy" I winked and dad just shook his head embarrassed.

"She does though, she makes me extraordinarily happy" he said pulling her close and kissing her hair. I don't ever remember seeing my dad affectionate like that. It was refreshing and I hoped I'd have that level of intimacy one day. "Do you want to go outside and have that chat?"

"Actually I'd rather stay here with Esme" I winked and dad literally dragged me by the ear out of the kitchen. "I was just kidding!"

"This conversation you wanted to have then" Carlisle began by pushing out the patio chairs. It rained so much in Seattle that outdoor furniture was actually kept in sheds and only brought out for the occasional sunny day.

"It's a rather somber topic," I warned him.

"Do we need wine?"

"No but I might want to pop a couple of Xanax afterwards."

"You know I don't condone recreational drug usage Edward" Carlisle chastised. I hated it when he got all Dr. on me.

"Again, kidding" not really though. "I went and saw Dr. Hammond the other day."

"I got a call from her office asking if you were alright since you cancelled the last couple of appointments," Carlisle added.

"Yeah I've been kind of busy, anyways Dr. Hammond suggested that I ask you about my mom. You've never talked to me about her. I don't know anything at all about her besides the fact that she died by her own accord too young. "

Carlisle ran his fingers through his damp hair and took a deep preparing breath before answering.

"I knew you were going to ask someday. I'm just surprised it took you so long."

"I haven't had a real reason to ask in the past, I just wondered… but now I guess Bella's forced me to think about her."

"Okay well, you want to know everything right?" I nodded. "I met Elizabeth, in med school. I was second in class and she was first and in the beginning I only wanted to dethrone her from the coveted position but I sort of fell in love with her. Her father was Edward Masen a king in the medical field and she was following in his footsteps—"

"I have a grandfather?" Carlisle's parents died when I was eight of illness while treating sick refugee children in Somalia but I never knew I have a grandfather on my mother's side.

Carlisle nodded. "He practices out in Chicago. We don't speak much beyond colleague to colleague. You actually have a trust set up by him."

"I do?" I had an inheritance. I was one of those spoiled, elitists with piles of money sitting in a bank safe with my name on it. I was a trust fund baby. It made my spine shiver and disgusted me. Mostly because Bella was right.

He nodded again. "When you were much younger and I was establishing myself as a surgeon he was the one that paid to send you to private schools, hiring the best piano teachers, and supplying all of your art tools."

"Why haven't I met him?"

"He prefers to spread his kindness from a distance now. I believe it's because he feels extremely guilty for what happened all those years ago."

"What happened?"

"Your mother and I started dating during our residency and I noticed the pressure of being a surgeon was getting to her. I supposed the pressure of living up to Edward Masen was getting to her because she became very depressed and had nerve-racking anxiety attacks. I mentioned this to her and she agreed and went and got some help. She began to get better and I proposed to her. We got married a year later. After that we both began our fellowships, we were vying for the same neurological fellowship and there were only three positions were available. I received one of the spots and she did not—of course she didn't know this, he father made sure she received that fellowship by pulling strings with every person on that board and convincing them to enter a fourth surgeon into that program. A little while after that a senior resident asked her to lend a hand on a surgery she wasn't prepared to do, she told him this and his exact words were "you're a Masen, surgical talent is in your blood not in textbooks." She agreed to help him and the patient died under her watch.

"I won't bore you with the details but it resulted in a pretty nasty lawsuit from the family of the deceased and she won thanks to million dollar lawyers and the name Edward Masen which pardoned her. But the family of the man who died were furious and hated her. She decided she needed to take a break while the heat died down and during this time she found out she was pregnant. For a moment I thought she was happy again but I think I was just fooling myself in believing that she was better. Things only got worse after you were born and she was diagnosed with post-partum depression. She was treated for it a year after you were born but didn't make much progress. She wanted to go back to work, she thought it was time; she thought she was ready and I disagreed with her. She didn't listen to me though and she went back far too soon thanks to Edward Masen. Unfortunately another patient died and she couldn't take it anymore. I don't think she could live with those deaths on her hands and the pressure she got from her father.

"She took a myriad of pills, she knew exactly the mixture to take her life. And just like that she was gone. I don't want you to get the wrong impression; your mother was a beautiful, thrilling, wonderful woman. She was incredibly smart she was a textbook genius regarding the anatomy of the body she just didn't have the hands. This is why I've never pushed you to become a doctor; I've always wanted you to create your own path so you wouldn't feel any kind of pressure. I saw what it did to your mother and I didn't want that to happen to you. So there. You know what happened."

In perfect timing Esme came out with lunch and when dad asked her to sit with us she said she was going to the shower and she'd join us momentarily.

"What was she like?"

"She was quiet, but she said so much without words. She had a thirst and craving for knowledge. She could see the beauty in almost anything. She inspired me to believe anything was possible, that I could do or be anything. And I wanted to help her so much; it broke me apart to see her spiraling into herself under that deep dark cloud of depression. I did everything I could, I sought help from everyone I knew and could reach. I loved her so much" I have never seen Carlisle cry before but a single tear fell and landed on his sweater.

"Hey dad, it's not your fault."

"I know its not but all these years I felt like I could have done more. Taken fewer surgeries perhaps, stayed home more… but this has nothing to do with you. She loved you Edward, she just couldn't live with herself anymore. I know that's no excuse and in no way does that condone what she did but you shouldn't fault her too much. You have to let go and live with the choice she made."

"Okay."

I had no questions for him. There was nothing else I needed to know.

Esme came back shortly after and we had had a funny, quiet lunch together, I had finally gotten the answer I wanted and I wasn't quite sure if I was satisfied with it. I trusted Carlisle wholeheartedly and I know he wouldn't tell me anything but the truth but I was still bereft of the feeling of wholeness.

…

It was naïve of me to think Bella was different than any other girl because when it came to getting ready Bella was _just_ like every other girl.

"Bella we're going to be late" I called out to the girl behind the French doors.

"It's appropriate to be fashionably late for a dinner party. Did you get the wine?" she asked.

"Tied a ribbon around it and everything."

"Okay what about this dress?" she came out in a wine colored dress with sparkly things on it.

"It looks the same as the last dress, it's just a different color."

"Excuse me because I want to look nice for your friends" she huffed closing the French doors. "Iron your shirt Edward your not walking out of this house in that wrinkled heap!"

"They're all artists, you could show up wearing a burlap sack and they'd say it was independently extraordinary" I replied looking down at my shirt. It _wasn't_ that wrinkled.

"Well despite your wishes I'm not going to wear a burlap sack, I don't even have a burlap sack to wear. What about my LBD?"

"What the hell is an LBD?"

"Little black dress, you can never go wrong with it."

"Well if you can never go wrong with it why didn't you put it twelve dresses ago?"

"Because I was trying to be adventurous dammit!" I chuckled at her response.

She came out later in her 'LBD' a small black number that hung loose off her tiny body and dipped low in the back. Her hair was curled down her back and the heels she wore made her pale legs looks like the yellow markers on the road that lead to the sex between her legs.

"Will this do?"

I gulped rather audibly. "That will definitely do."

"Take that shirt off I'll iron it," she said then with one hand on her hip and the other extended for my shirt.

I unbuttoned my only paint-less button-down and handed it to her. She retreated to the "laundry room" which was really a closet that had a pull down ironing board on the back of the door, and began ironing away.

"You look very domestic ironing in heels" I smirked.

"And you look like a misogynistic asshole in a wife-beater" she replied.

After she ironed my shirt I grabbed the bottle of wine, opened the door for her and lead her out to my car.

"Does Emmett live far?"

"He lives outside the city about 25 minutes. The house he built was far larger than city limits would allow" I started the ignition and Debussy began to play.

"Clair de lune? Who knew you liked the classics?"

We drove in silence the half an hour to Emmett's house in traffic.

"So this is what architectural irony looks like. I have to say it's very ironic," Bella laughed as I opened her car door.

We knocked on the door and waited until Rosalie swung it open wearin a trademark red dress.

"Edward!" she shouted joyously throwing her arms over my shoulders, Rose isn't the friendly person all the time so she was obviously inebriated at the moment to be so welcoming.

"Who is the girl?" she said in a sing-songy voice.

"Rosalie this is Bella, Bella this is the slightly intoxicated Rosalie Hale."

"Nice to meet you" Bella held out her wine.

"Thanks for bringing in reinforcements, B. Come in, come in its far too cold outside to be wearing such a cute dress" Rose immediately linked arms with Bella completely forgetting about me and leading us through hallways of stairs in this architecturally ironic house to the living room where the rest of the party was. There were more people here than I originally thought there would be.

"Bella this is my boyfriend Emmett" Rose went around introducing her to everyone.

"Nice to meet you Emmett, I've heard a lot about you" Bella smiled.

"Was devilishly handsome one of the character traits mentioned?" Emmett asked exposing his dimples full force. He said his dimples were what 'made the ladies swoon.' Obviously he was right because Bella's eyelashes batted wildly in bashfulness.

"I don't even know what to say to that."

"You don't have to reply Emmett charges himself on others nervousness. Avoid him at all costs" Alice chipped in. "Alice Brandon" she said extending her hand.

"Bella Swan."

Next came Jasper then his old photography friends Peter and Charlotte and Rose's cousin Irina and her husband Garrett.

We were all ushered into the dining area which literally had a table suspended from the ceiling, architectural irony. We engaged in mind numbing idle chatter that bored me to death and was one of the reasons I hated dinner parties. But Bella was wonderful at these things, her personality connected with everyone and even Rosalie seemed to adore her. I watched in amazement as she controlled the crowd with ease like… like a socialite or a princess or some other notable figure that coolly sways through people.

It was theatrical to watch.

"You're in love with her," Rose purred in my ear snapping me out of my reverie and when she did I realized the whole party was gone.

"Huh?"

"Everyone has been gone for desert and coffee in the living room and you've been sitting here with this goofy smile on your face. You're like a lovesick puppy Edward, I never thought this kind of affection was possible from a misanthropist like you."

I didn't reply to her comment but followed the party three steps behind as always.

"Did you find the bathroom?" Bella asked as I sat next to her on the piano bench, she passed me a saucer with a slice of red velvet cake on it.

"Uh yeah" I lied.

"Alice you _are_ going to sing for us tonight aren't you?" Charlotte mentioned biting into her cake.

"Please Alice I haven't heard you sing in years, tantalize us with your voice" Irina replied.

"I'm sure Emmett and Rose are sick of hearing me sing" Alice shook her head.

"No please sing, Edward's already at the piano and Emmett can get the guitar for Jasper" Rose disagreed signaling for Emmett to get the guitar. "Will you play Edward?"

"Do you even have to ask" I smirked placing my cake on the end table and Alice hopped on top of the piano.

"I didn't know you played the piano," Bella whispered scooting closer to me.

"Are you surprised?"

"Not really" she laughed quietly.

Jasper was given Emmett's acoustic guitar and I asked Alice what she'd like me to play.

"Do you know the song _Chained _by The Xx?" she asked.

"Vaguely but I'll follow along."

Jasper began. "_I watched breathing and I wished you'd stop_."

Together, "_Only for long enough, long enough_."

I liked the way their voices sounded together, like quiet coffeehouse blues with a shot of despair.

"_It's hard, to say_" Alice sang in her quiet voice, she had an incredible vocal range for a person of such tiny stature. She could go from Banks to Florence Welch in a second.

"_Separate or combine, I ask you one last time."_

"_Did I hold you too tight? Did I not let enough light in_?"

"_If a feeling appears if your mind should sway, it's not a secret you should keep. I won't let you slip away._"

"_We used to be closer than this. We used to be closer than this. We used to get closer than this. Is it something you miss_?" During this line Bella did get close. She got intimately close, her bare thigh touching mine, and her fragile head resting on my shoulder so I was constantly inundated with the scent of… _her_.

"_Winged or chained. I ask you would you have stayed?"_

"_Did I hold you too tight? Did I not let enough in?_"

"Brava" Irina clapped.

"And bravo for the gentleman" Charlotte countered.

"And a round of applause for the orchestra" Rose added.

"Truly Jasper I didn't know you had such beautiful voice" Charlotte gushed. "You two should be a duet act like Angus & Julia Stone or the Civil Wars"

"I've been trying to get him to work with me but he says that singing will conflict with him being taken as a serious author" Alice nudged Jasper's knee with her heel.

"On the contrary I think it would catapult your career, I mean look what acting did for James Franco, every book he's written had been a bestseller."

And that's how we got onto the conversation of careers while sipping red wine. It sucked being the youngest guests and not having a career to discuss or worry about so I began to play quiet background riffs that melted into the arduous conversation.

Bella's head was still on my shoulder and I had almost forgotten she was even there until she rested her hand atop mine. It was so light and gentle like the blue bird on the nightshirt she wore.

"Doesn't this scare you?" Bella asked softly.

"What?"

"Getting old."

I chuckled. "They aren't old they're only two to four years older than us."

"I know, isn't it scary? In two years we'll be them, worrying about our careers and getting married and having babies and settling down… it's sort of _terrifying_."

"Lao Tzu, if your anxious your living in the future" I quoted.

"And if your depressed your living in the past" she hinted. "Together we make a happy equilibrium."

We did.

"I like your friends, they're all interesting."

"Tonight they're boring," I countered.

"Tonight you're boring."

"Are you just going to repeat antonyms of everything I say?"

She shrugged. "Don't you hate it when people are vague?"

"I hate it when you're vague, you're usually about as transparent as a plastic bag."

"I resent that."

"I'm sorry."

"Apology accepted Mr. Cullen, when could we get out of here? Maybe you can finally give me a tour of that mysterious atelier of yours" I looked down at her and her bottom lip was trapped in between her teeth in that cute, sexy way of hers that I had seen her do once before.

"Really? I didn't even make my bed."

"Contrary, do not change your lazy habits for me" she repeated.

I think I might love this girl.

….

60 minutes later we were at my apartment and I had butter fingers as I dropped my keys twice trying to open my door.

I was losing my cool.

"Here" Bella finally took the keys from me. "I got it."

With ease Bella unlocked the door and stepped inside.

"Wow. This place is huge… and it's a mess," she laughed.

"Don't judge me."

"Give me the grand tour?" she asked plucking off her black heels by the door.

"Of course. This is the kitchen."

"None of your barstools match?" Bella stated but it came out more like a question.

"Do they have to? Thrift stores rarely have matching barstools," I countered. "Living room."

"Do you not believe in coasters?" she asked running her fingers across the rings on my coffee table.

"Should I? I live by no rules" I laughed. "This is my reading/thinking/I don't really know what area" I told her leading her to the large floor to ceiling bay windows in the back of my studio.

"And organizing books?" Bella asked looking at the disarray that was my bookshelf. Books were really just thrown anywhere, vertical or horizontal, titles upside down and right side up, facing backwards and forwards… really there was no order to my chaos and it made finding a book absolute hell.

"I live by no rules."

"What's up the stairs?" she asked.

The iron-wrought spiral staircase in the middle of my studio led to my open-air bedroom upstairs. The only thing up there was my bed, my nightstand, a lamp, nothing too interesting.

"Come I'll show you" I took her hand and escorted her up to my room.

"What size bed is this? It's huge! I could swim in it"

"Cali-King."

"You must not believe in a comforter either."

"I think your catching on" I smirked.

"I really like your apartment. It's told me more about you than I ever expected to know. You really don't mind me staying here tonight?"

"You didn't mind me staying in your apartment for the last two months."

She changed the subject.

"I'm so tired Edward, I never knew dinner parties could wear me out so much. Can I borrow a t-shirt please?" she asked with those precious hers pleading her simple request.

"Yeah of-of course" I went in search of a clean t-shirt a rarity in the Cullen household but I wasn't going to let Bella sleep in a dirty shirt of mine.

I found a clean one hanging in my closet, a light blue button down that I only wore once on vacation with my dad in the Bahamas when my suitcase got lost in the airport.

"Will a button-down do?"

"It's exceptional, thank you, bathroom?"

"To your left" I pointed and once she was gone I ran downstairs to grab my camera. I wasn't going to let this opportunity pass me up. I had the potential to get the best photographs tonight.

"You couldn't wait ten minutes before getting back to work?" Bella asked with a laugh when she came out of the bathroom.

"I strike when inspiration strikes."

"Well inspiration is tired. I'll just go downstairs."

"No, please. You can sleep in my bed."

"I don't want to put you out" Bella held.

"Trust me you won't be putting me out."

"No, no we can sleep together. Your bed is big enough to fit thirteen children, I'm sure we can sleep together without any… disruptions."

Jeez. I already knew I wasn't getting any sleep tonight.

"Okay" I agreed putting down my camera. "I'll be back."

I went to the bathroom and mentally prepped myself for tonight. I brushed my teeth, slicked back my hair, sprayed myself with Axe body spray, and put on a clean pair of boxers.

When I came back out I found Bella already asleep in my bed on my side, cuddled up in the sheets and blankets like a caterpillar in a cocoon. Her hair splayed across her face on my pillow and her mouth was slack open, her cherry red lips drawn over her teeth. She was so silently beautiful in her sleep and I took the opportunity to capture it from various angles until I found the perfect shot, the one I knew I could use in my exhibition.

And once I was done I climbed in bed with her… closer than was necessary but not close enough to disrupt her. I was within and without again and I watched her as she slept waking up throughout the night to the pleasant surprise of Bella cradled under my chin.

* * *

**Another long chapter that I didn't have the heart to break up! **

**Anyways let me know what you think! Reviews are love!**


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER FIVE**

"...I worship at the temple of your body and without you, I'd have no art..."

- John Geddes -

That night I got about an hours worth of sleep because I couldn't honestly rest with the smell of Bella's _body_ saturating my pillows and my nose. Her tiny little figure was pressed against mine—her arm was resting on my chest and her fingers were up by my neck.

I didn't want to move at all. I barely wanted to breathe. If I disturbed her the moment would be lost forever. So I didn't.

Unfortunately nature took its own course and Bella woke up. She batted her eyelashes, stretched her arms and turned her lazy eyes towards me with a smile.

"Good morning" she mumbled. "How did I end up in your arms?"

"You came here all too willingly."

"It's very comforting here… in your arms" she yawned lazily. "You have a skylight above your bed?"

"Yeah, I believe this studio belonged to an old astronomer, instead of this being his bedroom I'm sure he used this area to house his many telescopes."

"Don't you just love going to sleep and seeing the stars practically resting on top of you?"

"There aren't too many stars out here with the city lights and the rain," I told her.

"Your so pessimistic Edward, can't you just stop and appreciate beauty?"

"I appreciate the beauty in art."

"What about the beauty in nature? Nature is beautiful. I love this. I could lay here all day and stare at the sky. It's practically breathtaking, especially on a day like this" she said still looking up at the Seattle sky, she made no effort to move from me so I made no effort to disrupt her.

We probably lay there for half an hour just watching the clouds meander across the atmosphere.

"Can I make you breakfast?" she asked turning her baby brown doe eyes towards me with a look of inquisition.

"I don't know if I have enough food for _breakfast._"

"I'm sure I can scramble something together. I'm a self-professed sous-chef!" Bella proclaimed.

"Ha, oh really? I didn't know that I was going to be honored in the midst of a self-proclaimed sous-chef, I should have bought more hot pockets."

Bella laughed, kicked off the sheets and threw her legs over the bed. She stretched her arms above her head again and her hair fell down her back. She began to pad barefoot down the spiral staircase and tinkered around in the kitchen. Minutes later I could smell fresh coffee brewing.

"How fresh are these croissants?" she shouted from downstairs.

"Relatively fresh compared to most things in the kitchen."

"Safe to eat?"

"Yes Bella, I bought them on Wednesday."

She continued her work and I laid in bed too lazy to get up and still too shocked to believe that she was here. For weeks now Bella has been sort of a mythical being but having her here made her seem much more tangible—both literally and figuratively.

Eventually I went downstairs because I couldn't live forever in my fantasyland.

"I hope you like eggs and sausage on croissants" Bella sang once I came downstairs. "I also cut up some raspberries and grapes and I have your coffee, black, as you like it. And I guess I'll be taking mine black too since you don't have coffee or creamer."

"Thank you, Bella you really didn't have to do all this."

"I know but I wanted to. Go put on one of your records and we can have breakfast in your reading area" she suggested.

"Alright. I'll find something good" I promised then debated that statement because finding anything in my apartment was a hassle. However I did find a Bon Iver vinyl that I popped in just as Bella brought over breakfast.

She curled her feet under her with her saucer in one hand and her coffee mug in the other.

"Wait, wait" I said running for my camera. "Don't move an inch."

"Edward!"

"Please Bella! The light is hitting you perfectly from the window."

I got back just in time before Bella's patience wore out.

"There now we can continue breakfast," I said after I finished.

"I like Bon Iver" she mentioned in passing as she ate.

"Me too."

She nodded quietly and continued to eat humming the words to _Skinny Love_. We were quiet, both looking out the window watching the world buzz by us while we were together in silent bliss. I loved silence with Bella, it wasn't forced or contrived but like we were together. Breathing the same air, thinking the same thoughts, seeing the same world… I have spent my years looking at the world through a narrow tunnel but Bella—Bella forced me to see the world like she did, a vast community of people and nature all working together to bring something greater to the world.

"Okay I'm done. What do you want to do today?" she asked setting down her plate and deterring me from my thoughts once again.

"I have an idea but I want you to keep an open mind."

"What do you want to do?"

"I want you to pose for me."

"You promised I wouldn't have to pose," she pouted.

"I know but I thought you would change your mind eventually" I said. I wanted to paint her like I painted Rose or any of my other models. Every time I painted Bella it was all from memory… in poses I'd only dreamt of her performing but never actually seeing. This time… at least once I wanted to capture her in real time. To tailor her figure and define every bone and freckle. To have just her and I in a room, silent with only the sounds of my brush strokes and her melodious breath. I didn't want her to speak even though I loved hearing her voice. I just wanted the opportunity to _feel_ her through my art like… like Vermeer and the mysterious girl with the pearl earring.

"Okay this might be a little fun" she stood up. "Where do you want me?"

I got up and pulled back the large garage type door that divided my studio from my living room and lead Bella in.

"Wow, it's like a Bella museum in here" she laughed. "Do you think people will really like these?"

I shrugged. "We'll find out eventually."

"So where do you want me?" she asked.

I found a stool and dragged it over to the blank wall in my studio. "Right here" I said setting up my video camera and pressing record. I wanted to tape this for the multimedia part of my exhibition.

"What do you want?" she asked. "A little Victoria's Secret?" she pouted her lips. "A little Vogue?" she went all Madonna. "Actually I know nothing about Vogue, I don't read fashion magazines," she laughed.

"How about a little less."

"As in clothes?" she asked biting her bottom lip.

"Not quite yet" I chuckled. "I meant a little less posing. A little more _nothing_."

"Nothing?" she slumped in her chair. "I can do nothing."

"Well maybe not nothing, posture is a plus" I replied setting up my canvas and easel and laying out my paints and materials.

"This is a lot more difficult that I thought it was going to be then. I have mad respect for Mona Lisa now" she straightened herself up and tousled her hair.

"You're thinking too much."

"It's hard not to when you know thousands of people will see this."

"It might be the exact opposite. Maybe just you and my dad will see it."

"That's sad" she laughed. "I'm sure some drifters will come to your opening, if not for the art then for the free food."

"Just relax Bella. Here put this on" I handed her my mothers ring again. "Put this on."

"Why do I need to wear this again?"

"Have you ever seen the painting by Vermeer, _The Girl with the Pearl Earring_?"

"Only photographs."

"Well I'm trying to recreate that… in a way… in essence I am really just using it as an inspirational blueprint."

"What will this be then? _The Girl with the Diamond Ring_?" she asked flaunting her ring finger.

"That actually is a very good title. I haven't gotten around to naming any of pieces" I replied looking at her critically now wondering how I should pose her. I didn't want to replicate _The Girl with the Pearl Earring_ but at the same time I didn't know how to individualize it.

"Loosen up" I told her again and she wiggled her arms awkwardly.

"Better?" she questioned.

"Not at all" I laughed. "Wait here a second."

I left the studio to my kitchen retrieving a glass and a bottle of wine.

"Edward! It's not even noon, I'm a complete lush."

"It will relax you" I poured the wine into a glass for her. "Drink up."

She took the glass and gulped down the red liquid. I poured her another glass and handed it back.

"I'm already feeling a bit tipsy, I'm loose Edward" she wiggled again.

"Drink more."

"Are you trying to get me drunk and take advantage of me?"

"My intentions are pure I promise" I replied going back behind my easel and the drinking wine straight from the bottle. "Turn to the left a little, hold up your glass a little more."

She did as I asked her but her expression was off. Her eyes didn't convey that loving, sad, mystery that _The Girl with the Pearl Earring_ had.

"Think of something you love, think of something sad…" I told her.

"I can't really… all I'm thinking about is you."

Her words stunned me but I took advantage of them and crossed my easel on my way to her. Before she had time to object I kissed her, taking her face in my hand I cradled it as I wrapped my lips in hers. With my free hand tangled in her hair I pressed my body against hers, looming over her I looked down at her sad, beautiful eyes.

Kissing Bella was everything I'd imagined it to be. I don't want to sound corny but that spark everyone mentions was there. I felt like I was suspended in the air and time lapsed to a place where time was irrelevant, there was only me and her.

Her scent was really what drew me into her. You could only smell it if you were close to her, it was hidden at the nape of her neck and tickled her delicate pale wrists. It wasn't floral or musk, but a mixture of the most hidden, enchanting… and sexy scents that I had attached only to her. I had never smelled anything like it before. It was hallucinogenic and I couldn't shake the scent from my mind.

I gently unbuttoned her(my) shirt and watched as goose bumps freckled her now cold skin. Her nipples stood perk and erect and she didn't seem at all fazed by the fact that she was sitting naked in my studio.

"Move not, while my prayer's effect I take" I replied moving her body, her hands, and her glass of wine to the position I wanted. I sat her facing forward but slightly skewed to the right, her face turned forward. The ring and her glass weighed down her left hand with one of her breasts exposed; the other was hidden by the mirage of her that I had swept over it. "Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purged." I kissed her again.

Bella smiled up at me biting her lips and repeated the words I knew she'd say the famous lines from Shakespeare's _Romeo and Juliet_ "Then have my lips the sin they took?"

"Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again!" and with one final kiss I stood behind my easel and prepared to work. "I meant it, _move not_."

Her expression changed, something from idle wonderment to surprising romance and finally settling passion. I couldn't tell if it was passion she felt for me or if she was just pretending and conveying the emotions I wanted from her like a good muse would.

Regardless I began my work with light brush strokes first framing her face and then her torso creating a blank silhouette. And from there the piece just created itself. After four hours (which is quite unethical in the art world), countless glasses of wine and replaying Bon Iver I had my girl with a pearl earring painting. Granted there were stark differences between the two, my girl didn't have on a pearl earring or a turban wrap or anything on in general. On her left hand was my mother's ostentatious diamond and in it was a glass of wine. Not the innocent loving appeal of Vermeer's work but it was loved nonetheless. It still needed to be perfected, I needed to work out the kinks… manage the colors but it was a good start and Bella was a good model. After all she did sit there for four hours without a single complaint.

"Okay, I'm done for now" I told her setting down my paintbrushes.

Bella stretched her arms above her and pulled her arms through the sleeves of my button-down neglecting to actually button it.

"Can I see it?" she asked.

"Yeah sure, it's not done yet but they say the money is in the details so…" I moved out of the way so she could see it and I have to admit I was nervous. She, the star of my exhibition was my biggest critic. "What do you think?"

"I—I feel like I'm looking at me through your eyes… and I'm beautiful" she almost whispered.

"Is this the moment when you fall in love with me?" I laughed.

"I think it might be" she said seriously and before I could even think of something witty or sarcastic to counter her emotions she was up on her tippy toes and her hands were tangled in my hair and her lips were pressed against mine in a fury of passion that startled me. But I didn't stop. I couldn't stop. Every part of me wanted to consume her.

"Take me upstairs," she whispered and I obliged sweeping her up wedding style and carrying her tiny body up the spiral staircase. I laid her on my bed and kissed her again running my hands down her body memorizing the curves of her body and adoring them. Caressing those sweet pale breasts of hers that practically beckoned me to envelope them. That intoxicating scent that I mentioned before traced every inch of her skin from her cool porcelain breasts to the warm cavern between her milky thighs.

I had previously never felt this way about a woman in the bedroom. Sex was sex. Like Oscar Wilde said, everything in the world was about sex, except sex, sex was about power. But sex with Bella wasn't about power. It was about admiration, reverence, and devotion.

I reached over to my dresser and pulled out a condom but before I could even unwrap it Bella's hand was on mine.

"I've never done this before."

The biggest question mark blurred my mind.

"You're a virgin?" I asked and she nodded.

I couldn't take her. As much as I wanted to consume her I couldn't deflower her. She would loose the very essence that I loved about her. That had to be why I was so enamored by her, she was untouched and pure. I couldn't be the one to take away her innocence, her delicacy. I couldn't carry that with me knowing all too well that I couldn't keep it.

"Um—actually Rose is coming over this afternoon. She's getting everything ready for the exhibition and well… I need to start doing my part, naming pieces and deciding what going to be in the show… and whatnot" I stuttered the lie getting off of her and buttoning her shirt up. I feel like I've violated her in some ways by painting her nude. No one had ever seen her body before and here I was painting it and displaying it for the world to see. What gave me the right?

"Uh, yeah that's fine. Are you okay Edward?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm cool. I just forgot she was coming over and I don't have the pieces ready that I want to show her. You understand right?"

"Of course. I'll just be going then" she got up and pulled on her dress only to her hips so it wore like a skirt and with heels in hand she walked down the stairs with the most despondent look that I too felt guilty for not taking her.

Never in my life have I met a woman like Isabella Swan. Everything about her screamed intoxicating danger. She was my steroid, my cocaine, my heroin. She ruined me but liberated me at the same time and I just couldn't let her go.

The flash of her brown eyes grazing over me skimming past my being like I was irrelevant in the eyes of a goddess stunned me. I had never been looked at with such disdain by anyone, let alone a woman. Her immediate and silent denial was enough to break me and I wondered who I'd have to become to hold her attention, to grasp her affection. I couldn't shake her from my memory, that silken hair, those smooth gazelle legs, and her eyes… God, her eyes were just the key to unlock my bachelors heart. For weeks I dreamed about this majestic creature that seemed more deistical than human. I couldn't—

"Bella wait—"

"I can't do this anymore Edward" she turned stopping in her tracks but I had nothing to say to her.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I can't play this catch and bait game anymore. Everyday I'm with you I fall more in love with you and I can't help it, I don't want to be in love with you but I am. I put myself out there for the first time and you—you don't want me" she shrugged sadly and I swear I could see tears prickling in her eyes and my heart shattered into a million pieces right there in front of her. "What did you expect? After seeing your painting how could I not fall head over heels for you? You see me in a way that I don't even see myself; you love me more than I love me… but you can't say it can you?"

I opened my mouth but the words didn't come out. She was right I—I just couldn't say them. How would I know if they're true? I loved her more than anything or anyone I have ever loved but I didn't know if I was in love with her. I didn't know if my love for her was just a byproduct of my love for what she did for me—what she made me create on canvas. I couldn't yet decipher the Bella I saw in my paintings versus the Bella that the rest of the world sees.

"I—I'm not ready to love you" I told her. "Not yet.""

"That's exactly what I needed to hear."

And she was gone.

She had told me she loved me… and somehow I trusted her less.

* * *

**Hey guys! Sorry this chapter is up a week late my charger for my MacBook went kaput and I was without my computer for an entire week while it was being serviced at the Apple Store-and since the final draft of this story was saved on my Mac and not my PC I couldn't upload it. **

**But thank you for sticking around. Next week's chapter will probably be up on Sunday or Monday since I will be out of town. **

**Please review and comment and subscribe!**


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER SIX**

Men should never marry their muse. It ruins the illusion.

-Stana Katic-

I called Dr. Hammond at home. I needed to see her immediately. Her office wasn't open on weekends but she gave me her home address and I was at her apartment within twenty minutes.

"What's so important Edward? You've never seemed so rushed" she said opening the door and welcoming me inside.

Her apartment was nondescript and tidy—I expected nothing less from her.

"She told me she loved me" I stated pacing the floor frantically playing back our encounter.

"Who did?"

"Bella, Bella told me she loved me only thirty minutes ago."

"Sit, sit down Edward" she ushered me to her living room and I sat. But even though I was sitting my knee wouldn't stop bouncing and my heart rate was probably at a skyhigh dangerous level but I was so nervous—so nervous that… "What did you say?"

"I didn't say it back. I said I wasn't ready to love her."

"But you do? Don't you?"

"That's the problem! I don't know! I can't figure it out! I love what she does for me and I love that she inspires me and I love that she's beautiful but all those things are temporary. What about when she doesn't inspire me anymore? Will I still love her?"

"I can't tell you that Edward. These are your feelings, you tell me" she replied.

"I don't know," I repeated. "Artists aren't supposed to fall in love with their muses."

"Then don't think of yourself as an artist. Think of yourself as a boy, just Edward no labels, no attachments and Bella is a girl no labels, no attachments. Would you love her?"

"I think so."

"You've answered your question then."

"No I haven't. I have to think about my career. If I fall in love with her my whole exhibition falls apart. The illusion is gone."

"That's a risk you'll have to take for love Edward. There are some things more important than art."

"No, I have to become something. I can't let my dad down."

"Carlisle won't be disappointed. I promise you, I've never met a man that loves his child more than Carlisle loves you."

"I can't love her, I don't want to ruin her."

"I don't understand what you mean?"

"She's a virgin. I don't want to be the one to tarnish her and have her hate me forever because I'm incapable of loving her properly."

"Edward sex is meant to be shared between two people that love each other unconditionally. If you engage in a sexual relationship with her not only is she giving herself up to you but you are also giving yourself to her—it's an intimate vulnerability that you have to be mentally and emotionally prepared for if she is someone you have serious feelings for. And if you do start this intimate relationship then you aren't tarnishing her, she is giving herself to you willingly."

"I don't deserve it."

"What?"

"Her love."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because I really don't deserve anyone's love nor do I want it. I've been alone for twenty years now—"

"If this is about your mother—"

"Of course its about her!" I exploded. "Everything about her! Bella gave up on me just like she did."

Silence.

"I like being in her atmosphere though. I'm so afraid that I've lost her."

…

Rosalie was coming to my studio the following day. This exhibition was going to launch her career as well as mine. Technically she was like the third tier of exhibition designers at the Frye Museum. If this presentation went well then she could move up the 'corporate ladder' so she was taking this very seriously.

Unfortunately I wasn't.

"Gosh Edward you should really consider dusting this place, I feel my respiratory system shutting down just by stepping in here" she said stepping inside with her large purse slung over her shoulder and her heels clacking on the weathered wood floors.

I ignored her comment.

"Welcome to my home Rosalie, would you like a cup of coffee?"

"I'm trying to live a little cleaner and the first thing to go was coffee. I'd love a chai tea latte though or a green smoothie if you have some kale."

"Coming right up my queen" I aristocratically bowed down to her and she swatted me away with a laugh.

I went to the kitchen to play barista for Rosalie and heard the clickity-clack of her heels as she wandered around my apartment.

"Do you mind if I open this?" she asked looking at my big binders of retired art.

"Be my guest" I shrugged.

"I love that you have an entire Rosalie binder," she said bringing it back to the kitchen and sitting at the bar.

"Of course you do" I laughed. Rosalie was the vainest person I've ever met but her vanity was a nice distraction from the pain I was feeling. Rosalie herself was a nice distraction. She had this effervescent way about her that just made you light up and smile. I liked having her around at times like this when I felt lower than dirt.

"Oh my goodness! I remember this" she held up I portrait I had sketched of her on the back of an English essay when we were having coffee one afternoon. It was mediocre but who can truly blame me I was a freshman. "You said you needed help with your algebra equations and instead of doing homework you sketched me on the back of an essay about Kate Chopin."

"In for the kill."

"You were extremely talented even then. You know that's the only reason why I agreed to model for you. I'd been asked before by all the amateurs in the art department but never before have I have seen someone with so much… promise."

"Is that a compliment? Coming from the notorious Rosalie Hale?" I passed her the cup of tea she desired and poured the coffee I preferred in my mug.

"Yes, I believe in you Edward. Which is why I'm so excited to design this exhibition. No one else at the Frye saw the potential I saw which is why I can't screw this up. I'm in desperate need of a promotion."

"Nice to know I can do you a favor."

"Okay so what do you have for me? I have to get the design for the exhibition cards to the printing press and we need a beautiful piece to be our teaser, so show me what you got."

"Follow me milady" she picked up her mug and followed me to the section of my apartment that my studio was located in behind the industrial-sized garage door. "This is all I have so far."

"Mhm… I'm liking the photographs but I think a painting would be better" she said looking through the pictures I had already completed.

"Well there's a whole wall of paintings over there" I pointed to the window.

"Do any of these paintings have titles?"

"Why ask questions you already know the answer to?" I smirked.

"I know it's juvenile of me to think you've matured, but your entire exhibition can't be _Untitled by Edward Cullen on 8 by 5 canvas_"

"Titles are the hardest part" I replied but it came out more like a childish whine.

"Oh my goodness" Rosalie stopped after she tore the sheet off of my largest painting. It was the one I painted in the middle of the night with Bella in between the French doors. "This is stunning Edward. It's so… quiet, and lovely. I can't stop staring at it, more oddly I can't stop staring at her… nipples."

"They were kind of the focal point of the whole painting" I shrugged. "Since you like this one so much then why don't you use this for the exhibition cards?"

"We can't use this one! You're an undiscovered artist you can't show your most valuable piece before the exhibition and this I believe will be one of your biggest money makers but what else do you have you can't have just one buyers piece?"

"The Girl with the Pearl Earring" I muttered thinking about Esme.

"Vermeer? Edward you have to be serious you can't copy a Vermeer, and certainly not his most famous painting" Rosalie stated dumbly.

"No, no, my dads girlfriend mentioned I should channel that painting in a piece."

"Oh well you better get on that if that's the direction you want to go."

"What about this piece then?" I offered her a painting of Bella in the kitchen in the little blue bird shirt.

"You must really have an inclination for nipples Edward. But this is beautiful as well I love the unity between all these paintings. The other perimeters are blurred like you have tunnel vision for her. It's very romantic. I think it will be a good show starter. But I need a name for the exhibition, any ideas?"

"Untitled by Edward Cullen?" I suggested shyly.

"Cute but unmemorable. I'm going to take this with me, as well as this one" she said picking up the blue bird shirt painting and a more abstract piece that reminded me of a womb. "Text me the titles of these paintings as well as the title of your exhibition. I also need to tell you that we only have space for about 25 paintings. So plan accordingly."

"Go it."

"I'll see you again in a couple of weeks for an update."

…

I hadn't seen Bella in weeks. She didn't answer any of my phone calls and I didn't run into her on campus anymore. My exhibition opening was this weekend and I wanted her to come. She was practically the guest of honor. So I went to the coffee shop at a time when I knew she'd be working.

When the bell above the door announced my entrance she was sitting behind the counter on a stool reading a book and when she saw it was me she went back to reading her book.

"Can I get a large coffee? Black."

She didn't respond.

"Bella, can we talk please?"

"About what Edward? I think we said all we needed to say that morning in your apartment" she didn't even look up at me.

"Just hear me out, please," I begged.

"I'm working" she eventually replied.

"There's no one here besides that old geezer reading last weeks paper" I cracked a smile but unfortunately I couldn't crack her.

"I'll make you a cup of coffee. Go find a seat."

There were plenty of options to choose from seeing as the place was empty as usual. Bella came back with two mugs of coffee and sat opposite me.

"What I said that night—" I began but didn't truly know how I was going to word this.

"You didn't mean it" she finished my sentence.

"No, I meant it" I watched as her face fell. "But you have to understand the position I am in, you might not want to think about the impeding future and reality of having a career but I have to. You have a viable degree to fall back on, me… art is all I know how to do."

"Oh! How could I forget? You're an allusive, emotionally devoid artistic monster that can't possibly admit his feelings therefor you have to shift blame to something else. I hope you know there were many artists who were happy relationships and still had functioning careers."

"None that were in love with their inspiration. Picasso had a mistress as his muse Marie-Therese, same with Renee Perle and Lartigue, Andrew Wyeth and Helga Testorf were both married to someone else, Banksy had the keys to Kate Moss's apartment but they couldn't be lovers. From the beginning of time this relationship has never worked out" I told her honestly.

I know Dr. Hammond said there were things more important than a career but at the moment my career was my life. My art was my life. Nothing could get in the way.

"Who says were like all those others? It didn't work for them but who is to say it won't work for us?"

"I—I just don't want to take that chance."

"Edward—"

"I don't want to lose our friendship, I care for you deeply Bella you know that—"

"But you don't care enough to love me right? That's basically what your saying" she replied stubbornly.

It wasn't as easy and clear cut as she was making it out to be. There is a reason you don't marry your muse. I had to find inspiration elsewhere before I could let her go.

"Do you know what my favorite piece of art is?" I asked.

"Vermeer's _Girl with a Pearl Earring_?"

"No that's just my favorite Dutch Golden Age painting. But my favorite piece of art of all time is an installation piece by Felix Gonzalez-Torres a minimalist and you know minimalism isn't really my style but it's titled _Untitled (A Portrait of Ross in L.A.)_ it's literally just a pile of candy in the corner of a museum that embodies love and loss."

"What's so beautiful about a pile of candy in a museum?"

"It's not the piece itself that is beautiful but it's the story behind it and what it means. The candy represents Gonzalez-Torres's late partner Ross Laycock who died of AIDS. His favorite candy was this little known foreign candy wrapped in colored cellophane and all together the candy pile weighed 175 pound, Ross's ideal weight when he was healthy. The premise of the installation is that every person that sees it is meant to take a piece of candy with him or her. Like they are taking a piece of Ross with them but in essence they are just killing him, he's diminishing right before their eyes, dwindling in weight slowly and prolonging his metaphorical suffering. Some say it's a symbol of cannibalism in that you are literally eating his soul others say it's a form communion in that you're taking him with you and carrying his life and his presence onto others. Anyways the museum that housed this piece back in the 90's stocked up on all of this little weird candy and bought out the factory because it was going bankrupt and they kept a stock pile of this stuff in the basement replenishing the candy every night. And that's exactly what Gonzalez-Torres wanted, it was metaphorically granting perpetual life. But what I find ironic is the hopefulness of it all. Because eventually all the candy was gone and it was just like Ross died all over again."

I had never told anyone that was my favorite piece of art, I had never before told anyone what this piece meant to me.

"That's so sad."

"I guess that's how I feel about you. You're the candy and I keep picking from you over and over again. Beckoning you to live and flourish and love all the while killing you in the process. I know that eventually if I keep picking at you all the candy will be gone and you'll emblematically die but I can't stop. And to be honest I don't want to. Just like Felix-Gonzales I know that you'll leave me eventually but I want to prolong the inevitable."

"I understand unfortunately."

"But it doesn't mean I don't love you. I do. I just can't love you right now." I took her hand and held taking note of how soft and tiny and fragile it seemed in my big clumsy hands. "I need to focus on my career. Being a freelance artist is hard enough, being a freelance artist in the 21st century where art is a depreciated subculture is even harder."

"Okay."

"You'll come to my exhibition right?" I asked.

"Of course I'll come" she smiled.

"Here" I dug in my pocket and pulled out one of the exhibit opening cards to give her. "Rose had these printed out a couple of weeks ago."

"Exhibition Bella: In Remembrance of Elizabeth?" she read from the card.

"Also known as Exhibition _Beautiful_" I smiled. "It's _pun_ny"

She laughed lightly. "Because my name means beautiful in Italian."

"I've been doing some research and Bella isn't just physical beauty, its inner beauty, it's overall beauty. It's the idea that a person is so beautiful that every asset they possess is forever engraved in the bearers mind. That's what you mean to me. That's why I believe this exhibit is aptly titled."

She began to cry and at first I didn't know what do. But I manned up and wrapped my arm around her and held her close asking, "What's wrong?"

"It's just that you say you can't love yet but you already love me so much, I can feel it. It's the way you look at me and how you view me and the things you say that make me feel loved. I don't know how you could possibly love me anymore. I don't deserve it or you. I'm not as good as you think I am."

That's when I realized we were perfectly matched. Neither of us saw ourselves the way we saw each other. Neither of us thought we deserved of the others love. And neither of us wanted to let go of something we knew could be so dangerous.

* * *

**I really had every intention of posting this chapter yesterday but I just HAD to see The Fault in Our Stars so this got pushed back a little. Don't worry though Chapter 7 will still be posted Friday or Saturday for your reading pleasure.**

**REVIEW! COMMENT! FAVORITE! FOLLOW!**


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

"I see it, Jack. Your muse is back. The thing that gave you passion, tormented you, and haunted you is back. You're reeling in ecstasy and dread. It's something you want, but can't ever have. And the one that brings the pain is pure, white as snow... and standing in front of you."

― H.M. Ward –

"Edward? Are you listening?" Rosalie shouted the morning of my exhibit. I had been with her all day. Listening to her nag and nag and nag at me. But I didn't take it to heart. I knew I had the best person working for me. She had my best interest at heart even though I didn't know what my best interest was… she knew and that's all that mattered.

"I'm sorry what were you saying?"

"I was talking about your media outlets. We need a way that your fans can reach you. What about Facebook?"

"Eh, I don't like social media."

"Twitter?"

"Another form of social media. Why can't I just put out my cell phone number."

"Because your inbox would be blown up and you vehemently hate people," she reminded me.

"Fine then, good old trusty snail mail is the way to go. Set me up with a P.O. Box and I assure you that the one person that takes the time to write me will get a autographed pair of my underwear," I sarcastically taunted.

"Must you always make light of everything?"

"No. Sometimes I make things heavy, would you rather talk about cancer, death, extinct penguins, or starving third world children?"

"Pass" she waved her hand in my face dismissively.

"Why are you doing all of this? The show hasn't even started I don't know if I'll have fans or if anyone will even show up."

"Oh trust me people are going to show up."

"How do you know?"

"I posted a couple of sneak peaks on Frye's website and well you know the Volturi brothers right?"

"Yeah of course, they're like Italian royalty aren't they?"

"Well there are some logistics involved but pretty much. Anyways the youngest brother Caius is a huge art fanatic, but he loves modernism and realism and he has a blog called 'Translucently White' that absolutely everyone in the art world reads, his word is like the word of god when it comes to art, and I guess he saw the previews I posted because he uploaded an post saying he was already a fan of your work based on those three paintings, he said and I quote 'newcomer Edward Cullen shows extreme promise with his realistic pursuits and his uncanny ability to _paint photographs_' Ah!" she screamed. "Isn't that wonderful? And because he wrote this huge rant going on and on about you I've had so many people calling to see if they can get tickets to this opening. It's insane really! We have buyers and dealers from New York, California, Paris, Stockholm, and Amsterdam all flying down right now to come to your show!"

"Oh wow, that's a lot of pressure."

"A lot of pressure? That's a lot of publicity from just one blog post!" she shook my shoulders violently. "Why aren't you happy? Do I need to force you to be happy? Because I will."

"No—no I'm happy, truly I am. I am just worried these pieces won't live up to the hype you know?"

"Edward this exhibit is beautiful and stunning and… honestly it's a little unorthodox which is good people will like that."

I trusted Rose and if she said people will like it then people will like it… or Rose would force them to like it.

"Okay now on to interviews, I already have some lined up during the presentation but the rest of these will just have to wait until a later date—" she muttered walking around with her clipboard in hand.

I followed her looking at my exhibit as if I was a stranger and not the artist. And in this way I didn't necessarily see Bella but it's like Dr. Hammond said weeks ago. I just saw a girl.

…

Call me crazy but ironically enough I only began to take my exhibition seriously when it was less than five hours away.

I looked over all the pieces. I thought about reorganizing them but then thought otherwise. I thought about renaming them all. I also thought about taking all of them down and throwing them in my trunk. Sitting here it reminded me of my second grade art show. It was during Mrs. Lawrence's art class, we got to pick our favorite piece of art to showcase. I picked a crusty old bowl I made and painted green on the outside and blue on the inside. It was awful but I was incredibly proud of it and my dad was incredibly proud of me. To this day he still had that picture of me with a toothless Cheshire cat style grin holding that ugly bowl sitting on his desk in his office.

I laughed at the thought of that. It was my first art showing and even though it included 30 other kids it was a transformative moment. That one art show in the second grade with that stupid old bowl just created the path for me to be sitting here with relatively better works.

"Edward what are you sitting here laughing about? Shouldn't you be getting ready for the show?" Esme asked.

"Yeah I'm just… actually I don't know what I'm doing, I was just thinking about my first art show."

"It's kind of funny how these moments always remind you of how you got where you are" she said taking a seat next to me on the bench. We were sitting at the last painting in the exhibition, _The Last Virginal – Juliet Capulet_. "So about this title? In Remembrance of Elizabeth explain that to me?"

"Uh—sure, Elizabeth was my mom and Bella reminded me of her" it was really quite simple.

"What happened to her?"

"She committed suicide when I was around three" I answered through clenched teeth.

"And you're upset about it?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

She nodded slightly. "Can I tell you something? Something I've never told anybody, not even Carlisle."

"Sure."

"I attempted to kill myself once."

My dad sure knew how to pick them…

"Why?"

"It was following my miscarriage. I went to a support group for women who had gone through the same thing. When the women there told their stories they all said how much their husbands stood by them and loved them and although having a miscarriage was an awful experience it brought them closer the one they promised to spend the rest of their lives with. When they said all this I reflected on my own marriage and realized that wasn't the case for me. My marriage was disintegrating right in front of my eyes and there was nothing I could do about it. And as we were falling apart I was falling into the deepest pit of despair and depression and I couldn't get out of it. I had brought up the idea of divorce but he wouldn't have it, he even beat me for mentioning it. I felt I had no other options. It was either live in a world where my husband sees right through me or reside in eternity with the precious child that so rightfully belonged to me."

"How did you do it?"

"I jumped off a cliff" I never thought that would have been her route of death. It seemed rather brutal for such a sweet natured woman. "It's very easy to fall into a depression so deep you believe there is no route of escape. When you lose something you hold dearly whether it be a child, your partner, or even your independence it can take you to a very dark place. I have no room to judge because I tried to do the same thing your mother did once but you can't be mad at her forever. Although selfish, in a way dying was a way to stop her own personal suffering, she's at peace now."

Esme really touched me in a way that Dr. Hammond or even my dad hadn't. I couldn't tell if it was her general soft nature or her words that wrapped me in comfort.

I knew it would take time for me to completely get over this but at the moment I felt a huge weight fall off my shoulders. The weight of 20 odd years of anger began to slowly dissolve and melt away.

Esme then stood up and walked around the gallery, "Would you tell me what your favorite piece is?" she asked.

I'd probably do anything for Esme.

"The last one" I told her.

"Huh, _The Last Virginal—Juliet Capulet_" she read the title. "Why is it your favorite?"

"It's the last piece I made, and it's the only one she posed for."

"Really? So none of these are posed?" she rose a brow.

"Nope. I took a couple of them from photographs I had taken but the rest are all imaginings. I didn't really plan it to be that way… it just happened but I suppose it pushed the boundaries of my technique."

"I bet it did," she muttered breathlessly. She got increasingly close to the painting, I didn't care I just thought it was a little odd. "Is that you behind the easel in her eyes?" she asked.

"Yeah"

"It reminds me of the original cover of _The Great Gatsby_, where the golden goddesses are lying in Daisy's eyes" she mentioned.

"I wasn't really going for that, but if that's what you take from it, so be it" I shrugged.

"What were you going for then?"

"Nothing in particular, Bella had just mentioned when she saw the paintings that she could see herself through my eyes."

"That's beautiful" she replied admiring the piece a little bit longer.

"That's what she said" I breathed to myself reminiscing on her words, her expression, her eyes.

"You should get going" she finally said. "The show starts in a couple of hours and you're wearing a ratty old shirt and jeans."

"What's wrong with this?" I was going to wear this anyways.

"What's wrong? What's right! I'm sure you have nicer clothes than that in your closet."

"I do but I don't like wearing them" I groaned. Dressing up for me was the equivalent of giving a street cat a bath.

"Well you're going to wear something nice tonight. If I'm going to wear a slinky cocktail dress the least you can do is put on a tie" she smirked and that's how I ended up wearing a freshly pressed shirt (ironed by Esme), pants with a seam (also ironed by Esme) and tie with a Windsor knot (you guessed it… tied by Esme).

…

Coming to my own opening was a very different experience. First off there were a lot more people there than I originally anticipated… and I mean a lot. People were packed on top of each other like sardines. It must have had something to do with Cauis's blog posting because I had never met most of these people in my life and all I was really expecting was for my dad and a couple of Esme's friends to show up.

I was asked to give a speech, which went terribly, public speaking wasn't my strongest skill. But I wasn't too focused on all the people; I was more so trying to find Bella amongst all the people.

"Have you seen Bella yet?" I asked Rose.

"No but come with me" she looped her arm in mine and led me through the crowd. "I know someone is terribly excited to meet you."

"Rosalie I'm tired of meeting people—" I swear she had introduced me to everyone in this museum already.

She stopped when we got to a medium sized man with long dark hair drawn back in a ponytail. He traveled with an entourage of large men in black suits. His skin looked like translucent tracing paper and his eyes where wild with excitement.

"Aro, this is the artist Edward Cullen" Rosalie introduced us.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Mr. Volturi" I extended my hand in near awe. Aro Volturi practically an Italian king, his family has such a rich volatile history that there were specific college courses dedicated to just the study of this family. To go along with that they have the largest collection of art in the entire world, with pieces from nearly every notable artist their entire collection is valued higher the GDP of most countries in the European Union!

"On the contrary I am the one that is thrilled to be in your atmosphere, my younger brother practically begged me to travel with him to America to see your pieces and I have to say the trip was not in vain. You show extreme sensitivity and devotion to your art and more importantly your model" he said. "Is she here tonight? I would love to meet her."

"She'll make an appearance later" Rosalie jumped in with that million-dollar smile of hers.

Aro looked at me for confirmation and I had to say something, "She should be here soon."

"Great!" he laughed a little maniacally. "I just wanted to tell you that _The Last Virginal _is artistic genius, _bella magnifico_."

I was in awe of his praise.

"Now who do I need to speak to about purchasing a few pieces?"

"That would be me," Rose piped up again. "Which ones are you interested in?"

"I have three in mind to add to my collection and one as a gift for my brother Cauis who unfortunately couldn't make it tonight due to illness" Aro sighed. "Felix the list please" he summoned and one of the large men in black handed him a notepad. "These are the four I request, I've put on there my humble price appraisal since none of the pieces are valued. Of course if you see a discrepancy we can always negotiate. I've measured the price on their expectant time value; I've found throughout the years that initial works from artists like Mr. Cullen here tend to become increasingly valuable over time. "

"This is looks great, I'll be sure to get back you. Enjoy the rest of the show" Rosalie parted ways and showed me the slip of paper Aro handed her.

This is what was written in impeccable cursive script:

_The Last Virginal: Juliet Capulet– $500,000_

_Dolores Haze – $300,000_

_Ann(e) Shirley – $100,000 _

_Daisy Buchanan – $100,000_

_TOTAL - $1,000,000_

"Edward he wants to buy four pieces for one million dollars" she whispered excitedly grasping my arm for dear life.

"I see that."

Having been fortunate to grow up in a family where money wasn't an incredibly big deal I didn't think too much of the money. However I was happier that Aro had valued my pieces so incredibly high. I'm literally an unknown college grad from Seattle and he valued one piece alone at half a million. It was kind of mind boggling.

I wanted to tell someone, I wanted to tell Bella… but I couldn't find her. I kept getting pulled away by other buyers placing bids on various pieces of work and wanting to just chat with me.

"Edward!" I turned at the sound of a woman's voice only to be slightly disappointed at the sight of Esme. She quickly came up to be wrapping me in a hug and kissing my cheeks.

"Hi Esme, dad."

"I am so proud of you son, this is incredible" my dad replied with a slap on the back.

"So am I" Esme added. "This place is so packed I couldn't even walk through the whole exhibit" she laughed.

"I am just as surprised as you are" I replied.

"I'm really not that surprised, I knew you were going to be a big hit" she grasped my hand. "Anyways we'll get out of your hair, I know you have a lot of networking to do."

Esme and Carlisle were then lost in the crowd but I still searched for Bella. About an hour later I found her near the bar by the stage where Alice (and surprisingly Jasper) were playing, I had commissioned her for entertainment (with a bribe of free martinis, she was an easy lure) and I guess she suckered Jasper into it as well. I eventually found Bella talking very intimately with Aro, with her ear near his mouth and his pale pasty hand resting on her arm. I watched them for a minute and saw Bella's eyes widen with shock or surprise, I really didn't know what was going on but I figured that was my cue to intervene.

"Mr. Cullen, what a lovely surprise to see you again. I was just talking to your beautiful model here. She is just as enchanting on canvas as she is in person" Aro purred coyly slipping his business card in her hand. "I'll leave you two to yourselves" he withdrew himself and his henchmen followed behind him.

"What was that about?" I asked once he left.

"Nothing" she quickly answered.

"Okay…" I let it go "Well I'm glad you could make it tonight."

"Me too, this is really great. I feel a little awkward being here though, I feel so exposed."

"If it makes you feel any better I feel incredible awkward here as well."

"You have no reason to feel awkward your body isn't only display for the entire world to see."

"Maybe not my physical body but I definitely feel like my heart and soul are on display and its just as unnerving, the vulnerability of it all is deafening" I told her honestly.

"I debated not coming," she whispered almost too low for me to hear.

"Why?"

"You know why" her voice broke when she said that. "You were honest in how you felt and I understand that completely but this is how I honestly feel. I know I can't make you love me but I can spare myself the heartbreak of having pretend like you do" she wiped the solitary tear quickly and brought her lips to mine for a sweet, sad kiss. "Congratulations Edward, I hope all this is what you wanted. And I hope even more that all of this was worth it" she pushed through the throngs of people with her head lowered as the visitors gawked and whispered, _"that's the girl."_

She had raised a valid question though; I had chosen my career over her… was it worth it?

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**I might post the next chapter earlier next week maybe a post on Tuesday and one on Saturday because I want to get this story finished before I leave for vacation for the month of July. **

**Anyways I hope you all enjoy this chapter, and as always REVIEW!**


	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

"Then I knew: this wasn't just a passion I felt for my model. My feelings about him had nothing to do with how his looks inspired me; he was far more than a muse. With every stroke of pencil and crayon, I had drawn Will into my heart.

I was in love with him."

- Sharon Biggs Waller -

I hadn't talked to Bella the weeks following my exhibition. My career had literally shot off but I didn't feel like celebrating or like I had accomplished anything at all. Everyday I still came home to an empty loft, Japanese takeout, and blank canvases. I didn't feel the need to paint anymore or create. The most I did now was the occasional sketch on notebook paper.

My exhibit was authorized to show at MoMa in New York that summer and all of the pieces had sold during the first week of the opening. I had been commissioned by numerous people to create pieces for everything from book covers, community murals and public works. Somehow my exhibit became a household name and was being publicized as an endearing love story in the media. Apparently someone had photographed that last kiss I had with Bella at my exhibit and the next day it was on the cover of every newspaper in the country with the headline "The Artists Last Kiss."

I loathed it. I felt like I wasn't being taken seriously, my romantic life was never a contingency of my art. I hated it, everyone was asking for an interview and there were even a few paparazzi that sold pictures of me getting coffee to publications like _People_ and _Star Magazine_ where they formed fabricated hypothesis's about my relationship status. It was sickening. I wanted to be an artist not a celebrity artist. I was more Banksy less Andy Warhol.

Rose's career catapulted into another stratosphere and she quit her job at the Frye and became art dealer instead. Many artists who had been in the business for years requested to work with her because of what she did for me. Apparently they all thought she could rocket launch a career overnight, and although she told them that wasn't necessarily the case, that she was just the medium to get me where I wanted to be they didn't care. Even Aro hired her, she was now working for him to enhance his contemporary collection. He already had buyers all over the world searching for ancient pieces he was just dying to get his hands on but he wanted someone with a particular eye for talent to begin his modern collection.

Bella had even reached a level of fame. Rose told me she had been getting a lot of calls about "the girl" and everyone wanted to know her mystery. Fashion designers wanted her to model for international advertisements and be the representative for brands and perfumes.

I wouldn't know if she took any of those deals because she wasn't talking to me… at least that had been the case until she texted me in the middle of the night telling me to pick up the things I left at her house. I was there within the hour.

"Hey" she sighed opening the door. Her apartment was dark. The only light on was the one above the stove in the kitchen and the moonlight from the large window over her bed behind the French doors.

"Bella I'm sorry" I immediately apologized letting myself in.

"Edward you don't need to apologize, I'm over it" she replied stubbornly crossing her arms over her chest.

"I'm sorry. This career that I wanted is… lonely. For years I have been fine with loneliness, I craved it even but after being with you I realized I don't have to be alone anymore."

"What about your inspiration?" she asked.

I shrugged, "Alex Katz and Ada Del Moro worked it out, I'm willing to try if you are," I offered and she looked skeptical so I kissed her. They do it in all the movies. When the idiotic male fucks up the best relationship he's ever known and when he finally apologizes to the beautiful damsel and she looks skeptical he sweeps her away with a passionate kiss that rekindles the flame once dimmed but never lost. Hollywood finally got one right.

It started out as a sweet and tender kiss that turned into a race to the bedroom and a passionate flurry to remove all clothes in the shortest amount of time possible. The little vixen Bella is took control and shoved me down on the bed and mounted me straddle style her hair falling over her breasts. I quickly pushed it out of the way so it wouldn't inhibit my view.

She took me in her small hands and guided me to the warmth between her thighs. I watched as her face changed into an uncomfortable distortion as she tried to get acclimated to having me inside her. It took a while but once she settled in I was along for the ride… literally she rode me like there was no tomorrow (I'm an idiot because I would soon come to find out that there really was no tomorrow). But it wasn't like the first time we almost had sex where I adored her and her body… this time was rushed and frantic and _tiresome_ of all adjectives. It wasn't like anything I imagined or anticipated. I was sorely disappointed. It was just sex. Sex with no emotions.

I dismissed it and equated it to her being a virgin. I had never had sex with a virgin before so obviously she would need some teaching.

Afterwards she immediately fell asleep resting her head on her pillow in a quiet slumber, I drifted off to sleep along with her.

…

I woke up when the sun presented itself through the window over Bella's headboard. I rose with that invigorating soreness than only a night of sex brings and with a smile upon my face I expected to find Bella wrapped inside my arms breathing the slow shallow breath of the blue bird that adorned her sleep shirt. However as I searched for the feel of her warmth with eyes pleasantly shut I found nothing but pillows and bundled sheets.

When I finally opened my eyes I took in the familiar yet unfamiliar space around me. There was no coffee brewing. The shower wasn't running. The bookshelf and the books it housed where missing. The walls were bare. The apartment that was once a representation of Bella was empty. Her artifacts and belongings were gone and the apartment reeked of absolute normalcy.

Bella rounded the corner from the bathroom then dressed in black leggings and a wrap around sweater, an odd outfit for the weather since it was warming up outside with the promise of summer. Her hair was in a bun atop her head and she carried a toiletry bag with her and placed it inside the suitcase on the floor.

"You're going to have to get going" she said coldly. "My taxi will be here any minute."

"Where are all your things?"

"Packed up in storage."

"Why?"

"I'm moving to Italy."

"You're what?" I frantically got out of the bed realizing then that I was butt naked and began my search for my boxers.

"I'm moving to Italy" she repeated handing me my underwear so I could at least talk to her with the a sense of clothed dignity. "Aro offered me a position in his library. Do you know they have the largest library of ancient originals and first editions? Anyways they are working in restoration and categorizing all the books he's collected from auctions over the years. It's a great opportunity for me. Besides I need to get away for a while."

"Bella you can't leave we just…" I didn't want to say it the word made me barf… "made love."

Yep, I barfed a little in my mouth.

"No, I believe we just had sex" she retaliated with seething bitter. "Over these past few weeks I've gotten over you and I've learned from my mistakes. Anne Boleyn thought with her heart and got her head chopped off. I'm not going to be that girl."

My mouth fell in disbelief. This wasn't the same girl that I knew that longed to love like Elizabeth Bennett and had the sentimentality of Emma Woodhouse. This Bella was cold and calculating… I felt as if I didn't know her at all.

"What? Did you expect me to wait forever?" she asked after I drew my mouth back in.

"It hasn't been forever it's been five weeks!" I cried turning her around to face me. So much anger and hatred and love consumed my body at that moment that I grabbed her too hard and had to restrain myself. She looked at me with fear in her eyes as if I was some abhorrent monster but that fear soon turned into rage.

"You chose your career over me once I'm doing to same" she spat.

"You can't do that!" I idiotically shouted. It was hypocritical of me to say that but it's what I believed.

"Why not? You did the same thing to me! I'm not going to spend my life waiting for you to be ready. I'm not the kind of girl that will change her life for a man, any man, even a man as incredibly wonderful as you. It's not like your not worth it Edward, it's just that I just don't have the time to wait for you to be ready."

"I'm ready now!"

"It's too late now, I've already made other commitments. It's time I grew up anyways. Do you remember when you asked me what my favorite quote was?"

"To be loved is very demoralizing. Katharine Hepburn."

She nodded. "I gave myself up to you Edward. I tried to let you love me but you threw it back in my face—"

"I know and I'm sorry about that but you didn't give me a chance to change. Dr. Hammond said I needed to tell you how I felt weeks ago, that holding this in was just holding me back if that make any sense" I rambled trying to find something to say that would convince her otherwise. She didn't say anything though but stared at me blankly. Screw Dr. Hammond and her 'opening up' nonsense Bella obviously thought I was insane. Arguably I _am_ insane but that is beside the point. I don't think Bella even minded my insanity.

"Who is Dr. Hammond?" she asked finally.

"My therapist."

"And you spoke to Dr. Hammond about me?"

I nodded.

"Edward I—"

"I love you Bella."

She didn't say anything and the silence between us fell and grew a distance as long as the earth is from the nearest star. As soon as I said the words I felt her leave me, retreating into some unknown universe, some vast black hole where my adoration couldn't reach her and finally where she didn't even want to be reached. I knew that once the words passed my lips and that silence droned on like death but I didn't regret it because I believed it.

Dr. Hammond said I would just know when I was in love. It would happen and I wouldn't have to think twice about it. I believe that is what happened at that exact moment in time.

I told her I loved her and all she said was "Thank you."

I could have laughed at that response if it wasn't so heartbreaking. One of the funniest things about her was that she refused to walk through a door that any man held open for her. When I asked why she did this she said it was because she didn't want to appear submissive.

"Men open the door and as a woman you're expected to smile and mutter a demure thank you," she argued. "I refuse to let any man open any door for me concretely because I would hate to say thank you to someone for doing something that I clearly could have done myself."

This morning reminded me of the day she said that. I had opened the door for her just then and she was debating with herself as to if she'd stand on the sidewalk or if she'd walk through. And she did. She walked through the door and said thank you but it wasn't enough. Her words symbolized the finality of us. I was too late. I waited too long. And perhaps I didn't even love her enough to get her to change her mind. She had walked through the open door but instead of smiling and muttering a shy thank you she cried and her thank you came out as barely a whisper of words between us.

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**I honestly meant to post this chapter earlier this week but I just kept forgetting so the next chapter (which is the last chapter) will be posted early next week. **

**As always REVIEW!**


	9. Epilogue

**I've been trying not to post A/N's at the beginning of chapters but I want to let everyone that this is the end of Part One of this story. For ****information about Part Two check the A/N at the end of the chapter. Thanks and enjoy!**

* * *

**EPILOGUE**

"But the fact is, she [the muse] won't be summoned. She alights when it damn well pleases her. She falls in love with one artist, then deserts him for another. She's a real bitch!"

-Erica Jong-

3 months later

"I'm Katie Couric and tonight on _60 Minutes_ we have Edward Cullen sitting with us. Edward is a 22 year old graduate from the University of Washington who reached unmentionable fame in art and pop culture during his May career opening showcase at the Frye Museum titled _Exhibition Bella: In Remembrance of Elizabeth_" she smiled at me and gave me the nonverbal cue that I should probably respond but I didn't say anything. "So Edward I hear you're a rather private person, you haven't done a single interview since the exhibition opening and there are _many_ questions in regards to you, so lets get started why don't we?"

I nodded.

"The art world hasn't seen this much public appreciation since I'd say the 70s, it's like your Brad Pitt or some kind of movie star, how are you handling the attention?"

"It's different. I guess I'm a little too awkward to be labeled as a Brad Pitt," I said really awkwardly. More awkward than I intended for it to come out but oh well… I didn't want to do this interview anyways.

"You are very much redefining the role of an artist in society, just the other day I saw a picture of you on TMZ of all places, has this put any kind of pressure on you?"

"It has put some pressure on me, my mentor laughs at it he says an artist shouldn't have too many fans, the admiration will go to his head" I laughed thinking about Mr. Berty.

"I could definitely see how that's possible. The admiration hasn't gone to your head though right?"

"No, I'm a very quiet and a very private. I crave solitude. If anything the attention has more so gotten in my way."

"Let's talk about your exhibition" she changed the subject. "The title, tell me what that means."

"_Exhibition Bella: In Remembrance of Elizabeth _was a title that took a long time to process and formulate for some reason even though it isn't overly complex or deep. Originally I just wanted it to be _untitled_ but I figured I should do something a little more original than that. The name Bella is obviously the name of the girl who inspired me but as most people know the name means _beautiful_ in Italian… but it also means _war_ in Latin so you can take it either way" I shrugged.

"Which do you think about it as?"

"If you would have asked me that four months ago I would have said beautiful" I replied and looked up at Rose who drew her fingers across her neck physically warning me not to say what she knew I was about to say… _but since your asking me today I'll say war_ was my impulsive response_. _"But since your asking me today I'll still say beautiful."

I saw Rose physically breathe a sigh of relief from behind the cameraman and resisted the urge to roll my eyes. She was the one that forced me to do this interview. She said I needed to maintain my image. I don't know what image she was talking about because I had been holed up in my studio for the last four months.

"And what about _In Remembrance of Elizabeth_? What does that mean?"

"The entire exhibition was a showcase of Bella's beauty but it was inspired by my mother Elizabeth, she—um committed suicide when I was three and even though I didn't know her well or truly remember her at all, Bella reminded me a lot of the woman I imagined she'd have been."

"That's beautiful. So even the title meant a lot to you and I can see why this exhibition was so personal" Katie said. I noticed for the first time that there was a folder wedged between her leg and the arm of the loveseat she was sitting in. "You had a multimedia exhibition that was a smash hit, it included numerous and some quite large paintings as well as photographs and video and sound bites, what were you trying to accomplish by using so many different mediums?"

"I was trying to immerse the viewer in Bella so the viewer could really feel her like I felt her. You can hear her laugh, her footsteps in the morning, her voice singing in the shower… It's a narrative, a story in the form of paintings and pictures and the mundane normalcies that make up a day. It's like you are there in her apartment, I wanted to scatter coffee beans around the museum to really complete that immersion but my exhibition designer said it would be a mess so…"

"Well I really think you accomplished that. I remember seeing the exhibit at the Frye back in May and I went through it alone and I definitely felt that. As odd as it may sound I felt like I knew Bella even though I've never met her in my life" she nodded appreciatively. "This was a very publicized exhibition, over 2,000 people came to your exhibition opening week and The Museum of Modern Art commissioned to have your exhibit shown in New York over the summer. How has that experience been?"

"It's been pretty crazy actually. I never in my wildest dreams imagined that my opening exhibit would be shown at MoMa but I think it's great, I've gotten pretty good reception following the showing which is always good."

"Your entire exhibit got wonderful reception the most notable is that the Volturi brothers attended the opening and Caius famously called you _the artist that paints photographs_ in reference to your realistic style."

"Pretty big words to live up to."

"They are," she laughed, "Before we get into some of the more tougher questions I guess you could say, we asked some of your fans tweet in questions and comment on our Facebook page using the hashtag #askedward I have to say we got quite a response in return."

"Shoot."

"We have a Erica from Minnesota that wants to know what are the integral aspects that go along with forming your art?"

"For me its solitude, the more serious the piece and the larger message I am trying to convey I have to be that much more isolated. I like to work in comfortable, familiar places. Also I'm not the type of artist to push past inspirational blocks, I have to be inspired to create which can sometimes cause inconveniences when I have to make a deadline."

"Logan in Tampa wants to know what art you identify with and what is your favorite medium?"

"Realism is probably the portion of art that I most identify with, that's probably the 'genre' that most of my pieces broadly fit into. But as far as a concrete 'genre' I term it as romantic realism just due to the nature of the definition of realism. Technically I'm a realist, I try to paint as true to form as possible but stylistically I do glorify my models and tend to represent them in a very romantic way. As far as my favorite medium… I'd probably say it's a three-way tie between pencils and paint and photography. I can't pick just one when they all have their benefits and the ability to capture and convey certain emotions."

"Alexis in Brooklyn wants to know what themes you pursue through your pieces?"

"With _Exhibition Bella_ we went in a sequential fashion in order of showcasing the works, and because of that you can really see the buildup and the decline of the relationship. Although the pieces are all different in nature they all go together like a novel or a fashion designers seasonal line. Truly I only explored two broad themes in the exhibit which were love and loss and those two can be broken down to many different facets."

"Tyler in Vancouver asks, besides Bella were there any songs inspired you?"

"I was inspired by a lot of music, when I paint or create anything in general I like to have a quiet soundtrack to play as background music. My good friend Alice Brandon is a singer and songwriter she actually performed at my opening but a lot of her music was played in my studio, along with Bon Iver, The Xx, Debussy, Sebastien Tellier, Abel Korzeniowski, etcetera."

"Finally Porter in Manhattan wants to know what you dislike about the art world?"

"It's actually kind of funny I used to love the art world because it was so interpretive and individualized but once I had my own exhibition I became increasingly frustrated that it was so individualized and that people weren't seeing things how I saw things. Especially with the piece _The Last Virginal_. Everyone sees it differently, some say it's a play on modern femininity others argue it's a rebellious attempt to channel the men's rights movement… I find it all rather funny. People see things I really had no intention of conveying."

"So what is the piece about then?"

"I don't really want to say because I don't want my interpretation to ruin someone else's perception of the piece. I've kind of learned to just go with the flow and let everyone take from it what they wish."

"We actually got ahold of a few of your older pieces throughout your college career" she says holding up a couple of photographs of paintings I had done of Rose back when I was in college. "This exhibit seems much more personal than anything you've ever done before."

"It was. My relationship with Bella was unlike any other, there came a point when I wasn't just painting her anymore" I admitted.

"When did you reach that point?"

"Looking back on the experience I'd say it was around the time that I painted _Hester Prynne_ but when I was going through it I don't think I really admitted it to myself until I painted _The Last Virginal_" I told her.

"Since you've brought up Bella we might as well delve into the subject that interests so many people. Art critic James Gardner said that Andrew Wyeth's Helga Testorf was the last person to ever be made famous by a painting. I would venture to say that that is no longer true. Bella Swan is a name that most people know now because of your intimate paintings of her. She reached unbridled notoriety receiving offers for national modeling ads from Chanel, Burberry, Prada and many other designer brands."

"I've heard that" I knew she was going to bring up Bella but I really didn't like talking about her.

"And how is Bella?" she asked. "We tried to reach her for comment but unfortunately couldn't get ahold of her."

"Your guess is as good as mine. I haven't seen her since—" since we slept together the day she left for Italy. "—the opening. I hear she's out of the country."

Katie nodded.

"So your relationship is severed?" she asked.

"I don't want to use the word severed. It sounds critically harsh and blunt. I'd say our relationship dissolved. It slowly faded away and I am still clinging on the last remnants of the past."

God I felt like Fitzgerald. I finally understand what he meant when he was trying to recreate the past. What I couldn't differentiate with however if I truly wanted to recreate the past or my idea of the past…

You reside in this shadow world and the past is where you find happiness. Or at least contentment. It's as painful as a battle wound.

I looked up at Katie and she eyed me like I was dying of malaria. I realized I must have said that last sorrowful though aloud and she pitied me.

"I'm interested in knowing how you did most of your work painting Bella."

"Most of the time I just watched her—" I chucked to myself imagining Bella saying _'that doesn't sound creepy at all'_ "her mannerisms and just her personality inspired me and from that I went back to my studio and imagined how I wanted her to pose. The only painting she actually posed for was _The Last Virginal_ and that piece is very special to me."

"Ah _The Last Virgina_l, the piece that so many people wonder about, we'll get to that one in a minute but can you explain the titles of your pieces? There is a distinct pattern to them."

"Um yeah, just like my showing I originally wanted everything to be _Untitled_ since I am so bad at titles but yeah there is a pattern. None of photographs are titled, there were just too many but all the paintings are titled after heroines in literature, all of them except the last piece which is titled _The Last Virginal – Juliet Capulet_."

"Can you explain some of the titles because one in particular stirred quite a bit of controversy?"

"Yeah, about half of the titles are strong female leads that a lot of people identify with like Elizabeth Bennett or Hester Prynne or Anne Shirley. But since this was an immersion exhibit you can't showcase the good without the bad and I got some backlash from the titles more than the art like Judy Jones, Daisy Buchanan and Scarlett O'Hara. But none more than Dolores Haze or as some might call her Lolita, that piece caused a lot of arguments and I really don't know why."

"Why did you title your pieces after literary heroines?"

"The first picture in the exhibit shows all the books that those heroines are from lined up on Bella's bookshelf. At the time Bella was an English major and she had all these books so I just picked female characters from all of them and associated them with the piece that I believe most represented that character. I believe that since Bella was such an avid reader and bibliophile that her overall character and personality was a mash up of all these characters, so I guess it was just another way for me to represent her."

"And which character, not painting, would you say most depicts Bella?"

That was an easy one.

"Esther Greenwood from _The Bell Jar_ by Sylvia Plath. Not because Bella is on the brink of a psychotic break or anything but because a lot of Esther's life realizations mirror Bella."

"Now lets talk about the last piece in the exhibit, _The Last Virginal_. If the exhibit was in sequential fashion like you said this piece being the last exemplifies the end of your relationship correct?"

"Yeah _The Last Virginal_ was the last piece I painted and I actually painted it only a few days before the exhibit was opening and it was still wet during the opening."

"And the title of this piece? It's different from the others, what does it mean to you?"

"_The Last Virginal—Juliet Capulet _was a complicated title. Like it said this was my last piece and it signified the ending of an _odd_ relationship. Historically a virginal was a 16th century instrument played by young girls of high society and I don't know why but Bella reminded me of a virginal" I told her leaving out the fact that I titled it that also because I found out Bella was a virgin only minutes after setting down my paintbrush. "She's also the last person I believe I'll ever find that possesses that 'virginal' quality. To stick with the theme of literary heroines I added Juliet Capulet on the end because during the session I had with her when she sat for this painting I had quoted Romeo Montague and she responded with the words of Juliet" I reminisced on that day. It was the first time I had ever kissed Bella.

"What line was it that you said to her?" Katie Couric asked with a finger resting delicately on her chin.

"I don't remember" I lied. I am very private and that moment of shared Shakespeare between Bella and I meant something to me. But I suppose since Bella hasn't talked to me in almost four months there was nothing special between us anymore. "Move not, while my prayer's effect I take. Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purged."

Katie didn't say anything for a good minute and I didn't say anything either. I was in a temporary trance by the weight of remembrance those words held for me. They brought me back to that exact time when I originally said them to Bella.

"In the painting the viewer can see your silhouette and an easel framed in her eyes, was that meant to symbolize something?"

"That detail was added after Bella had posed with me, she made a comment that when she saw the paintings that she could see herself through my eyes" I replied pushing my hair out of my face. I hadn't had a haircut in about three months and already my ginger locks were nearly to my shoulder. I had also given up on shaving which left me with a matching scruffy red beard resulting in an overall appearance of a ginger Jesus. Rose had begged me to shave and at least trim my hair for this interview but I told her I didn't have time to shave anymore or get a haircut, my art was too demanding. I used my art as a crutch to deflect Rose's critical eye… sue me.

I looked up at saw Katie eying me oddly again and I didn't know what to make of it.

"There was a video in your exhibition, it was a video of the moment when Bella posed for you. Some argue that this was your best piece in the whole exhibit. It's like a silent four-hour documentary of absolutely nothing but you can see the time lapse by the shifting of the sun and shadows it casts on Bella's figure. The first twenty minutes or so is when all the action takes place. During most of the video you're out of frame except for in the beginning. Can you walk us through the moment that video was shot?" she asked and I adjusted myself in my seat and cleared my throat.

I tried not to think about that moment. It signified so much to me that whenever I thought about it it made me unbearably depressed. The last three months I had been living in a pool of depression and drowning my sorrow in brown bottles and anger art that was aimed towards Bella.

"Like I mentioned before that was the only time she posed for me" I began and took a deep breath. "I sat her down in my studio and she was stiff and awkward. So I gave her a glass of wine to relax her and we drank together. I'd like to blame it on the alcohol but the truth was I was falling in love with her… so I kissed her."

"And is that what the viewer is watching? You falling in love with her?"

"If I'm going to be honest with myself I fell in love with her weeks before that but that was when I really realized it, and acted upon it I guess."

"For such a private person why did you choose to include _that_ in the opening?"

"I just thought it was a nice video. I didn't see anything wrong with it. It isn't a secret that I was in love with her. To me it was just like people knowing my name, it wasn't a secret at all."

"All of your pieces have been sold to collectors and museums all over the world but your two most notable works from the collection, _The Last Virginal—Juliet Capulet_ and _Hester Prynne_ are famously missing. These pieces are without a doubt your most notable and praised for their utter simplicity, eroticism, and intimacy," she finally said after a pregnant pause. "I heard a couple of rumors circulating the pieces, that MoMa wanted to buy _The Last Virginal_ it for it's permanent collection but that Aro Volturi, noted art enthusiast and collector attempted to purchase it at your opening for a half of a million dollars. But when we followed up on both stories neither has the piece although Mr. Volturi says he purchased others in the collection. I've also heard the rumor that they are hanging in your laundry room."

I laughed a little at that, "That's false, I don't have a laundry room."

That was false.

I did have a laundry room. I just didn't use it for laundry. It acted as a storage facility for my paint materials.

"Regardless the pieces are conspicuously missing."

"They aren't missing, I own them."

"You own them?"

"Yes, I own them" I repeated as if she didn't hear me.

"If you don't mind me asking… where are they?"

"Hanging in my studio. Bella stimulated me, and she still does. Having those paintings hang in my studio… it's kind of like she's there."

"Do you have any intention of selling them?"

I thought about it for a moment. A half of a million dollars was a lot of money but I was living comfortably off the dividends I had made from selling the less notable paintings and drawings, and even the photographs (which I didn't think were worth that much honestly). I guess if I were in desperate need of the money I would sell the paintings… or perhaps when I finally get over Bella I'll sell them.

"When she stops inspiring me, when she stops meaning something to me I'll sell them" I conveyed to her the intent behind my words because there was no time soon when she'd stop inspiring me.

For a moment I saw Katie reach for the mysterious folder that was wedged between her skirt and the loveseat. With fingers resting on the edge she picked it up briefly before setting it back down.

"Thank you Edward for sitting with me this afternoon" she smiled sadly.

"My pleasure" it really wasn't.

"So now you know the truth behind _Exhibition Bella_, I'm Katie Couric on 60 Minutes, have a good night" she said with a flourish and a man yelled cut. There was a hoard of people around me in that instant removing my mic and wires that wrapped around me.

"Edward, do you mind if I talk to you for a moment?" Katie asked peering her head around the people that surrounded me.

"Yeah" I shouted as the people scurried about. Once I was free from the hoard I bypassed Rose and walked over to where Katie sat alone by a makeup vanity.

"Thank you for doing such a fantastic and honest interview" she said talking my hands in her cold ones. I was shocked by the affection but didn't shy away from it. "I truly believe you are an incredible artist and was moved by your opening. My producer wanted to harp on your recent popularity and got a hold of a photograph he wanted me to ask you about it on air but after hearing you talk about Bella and how much you adored and respected her I figured there has to be some code of ethics in journalism" she whispered and reached behind her and pulling out the folder that she had played with during the interview and handed it to me.

I carefully took the folder acting as if the cure for American obesity was held inside it's beige walls. I waited with baited breath as I opened it and saw a photograph of Bella. She was at a grocery store seemingly and as she was checking out her granola bars and bananas she was also checking out a _test di gravidanza_.

"I don't understand the meaning of this" I replied.

"Test di gravidanza translates to pregnancy test in Italian" she said with worry in her eyes and when she muttered the words my ears shut them out immediately. My breath caught in my throat and suddenly it was as if the entire world began to spin around me giving me intense vertigo and nerve-racking fear.

"Uh—" my voice caught dead in my throat and I couldn't even speak.

"The photograph was taken a weeks ago by some sleazy paparazzi company that stalks celebrities on vacation. There weren't too many celebrities on vacation so they decided to stalk Bella. Everyone's got to make a living right?"

"I—" again the words just wouldn't come to me.

"Who knows she could have bought it for a friend or someone to shy to buy it themselves" Katie offered but I knew she was wrong. She didn't know what I knew, that Bella and I were together only a few months ago. The test couldn't be for anyone else but her.

"Do you have her contact information?" I asked. It was the only question I had to ask. I hadn't talked to her in three months, I didn't know her new address or her international phone number or even her Skype username. I had no way of getting in contact with her even if I wanted to.

"It's in the folder" Katie replied.

* * *

**DON'T FREAK OUT! The story is not over yet! Just Part One! All along this was meant to be a sort of trilogy with 3 parts. **

**I'm going to Europe for the next month so I won't be updating or writing much at all while I'm gone. **

**But if you leave a signed review on _this_ chapter I will personally PM you and tell you when Part Two is posted (I might not post it as an attachment to this story but rather it's own separate story). **

**Do any of you think she's preggers? Do you think Edward will _ever_ sell those paintings?**

**I also wanted to take the time to say thank you to everyone for reading this story… for giving it a chance… for brightening my day with kind reviews and encouragements, it's really meant a lot and I don't know how else to thank you besides continuing this story so you'll know what happens to my artist and his muse!**


	10. Part Two Preview

**I read all the reviews and honestly I didn't know how much you all liked this story! So thank you! Since you all like it so much I decided to post a little blurb of Part Two, it's just a little preview that I had already written and I thought you might enjoy it!  
**

* * *

As I continued my life, non-living but functioning without Bella I realized she was an integral aspect of who I'd become. Like a liver. Or a lung. Or a pancreas. Or some other important organ you can't live without. You can get a replacement organ but it's never really the same.

I missed her.

After Katie showed me that photo I reached out to her. Mailing her a letter asking how she was doing… if she was pregnant specifically and sending her a cut of the money I made from selling the pieces. She was a working model after all.

But that was two weeks ago and I hadn't heard anything from her.

It wasn't worth it.

At my opening she had told me she wished all of this was worth it. The fame. The notoriety. The success. But it wasn't. I spent my days drinking scotch or brandy or rum or whatever dark brown alcoholic beverage I had readily available. I would drink my liquor on my sofa and stare up at my painting, _The Last Virginal—Juliet Capulet_. It hung over my mantel and always brought a flushing wave of memories to me.

I was about to begin my nightly ritual when I heard a knock at my door. I only had a few guests theses days, my two friends Jasper and Emmett, my dad and his girlfriend Esme and my art dealer Rosalie…

"When was the last time you checked your P.O box Ed? I mean honestly I told you social media was the way to go but _noooo_ you had to be difficult and now you reap the consequences. Bundles and bundles of fan mail for you my darling" Rose huffed as she welcomed herself in jamming stacks of envelopes in my hand.

"Hello Rosalie" I greeted taking the letters and closing the door.

"I really wish you would get rid of the scruff, its so William Fitzsimmons-y you look like Emmett _pre_ architectural-irony when he had that funky 70s mountaineer thing going for him."

"Thank you but I don't really see the point in shaving or getting a hair cut. I'm a professional artist now, which means I have license to be a social recluse without anyone judging me too critically. It practically comes with the job."

"I should become an artist then. No one could judge me for staying at home and showering once a week, never wearing makeup, and let my roots grow out revealing my true hair color" she replied laughingly.

"You see this is where a double standard comes into play. You wouldn't be considered an artist just a liberal feminist."

She swatted me hard with her hand but I barely felt it tingle, as I was already a little inebriated.

"This is why people hate you Edward."

I shrugged.

"Lets get down to business, I have another appointment—" she began.

"At nine at night?"

"Art doesn't sleep dear boy, and neither do artists. I swear these people I'm representing now are vampires they call me in the middle of the night claiming they have just created the next _Pietà_" she shook her. "But not you, no, Edward Cullen has decided to drink himself into oblivion and neglect all of his friends."

"Is Emmett saying I'm neglecting him because we were just playing COD yesterday" I asked honestly.

She looked at me incredulously. She always had this _look_ as if she was looking at someone completely beneath her intelligence. That was the look she gave me. But I wasn't offended it's just how she looked.

"Moving on… your interview a couple of weeks ago created a lot of buzz for you. Everyone ate it up. The whole heartbroken, depressed and reclusive artist persona was perfect. So kudos to you. Now in regards to art when do you expect your sophomore exhibit to be? 8 months? 12? We can really ride this tidal wave all the home."

"As you can see I haven't really been inspired to create anything. My studio is filled with scathing hate art. Nothing worth showcasing at MoMa."

"It could be a new artistic direction you're taking" she suggested.

"I don't think so. It's more embarrassingly depressing than cerebrally captivating."

"I'm telling you, you will get over her. One day you'll wake up and she'll be forgotten. She'll be nothing more than that girl you painted that semester. I promise all heartaches pass" she spoke then went back to her folders. "In the meantime though I think you should get out of here. Work on location for a bit. I have a lot of interesting offers here that I'd like to run by you."

"Go ahead" I offered and listened.

"This first one is kind of funny because well it doesn't seem to fit you but NYU has asked if you'll teach a realism course this coming fall semester."

"Me? A professor?"

It was laughable. Rose and I both laughed. It felt good to laugh again.

"Pass."

"You've been asked to create a movie poster for a historical drama starring Kiera Knightley, from what I've read it's Oscar worthy" she said in a sing-songy voice, I'm sure its because she wanted me to take that job so she could "accompany" me to California.

"Eh, pass."

"Come on Edward, California is beautiful. The sun, the sand, the hot surfer guys…"

"You're engaged" I reminded her.

"I know but Emmett doesn't surf, he plays with metal in workshops and draws on blue paper which isn't sexy at all," she pouted. "But I love him."

"No to California" I repeated.

"What about writing? _The Times_ wants you to write for their new 'young artists' page," she offered.

"I'm not a writer in the least bit."

And I'm also not interested in young artists… besides myself that is.

Rosalie rolled her eyes and continued. "La Scala Ballet Theater in Italy wants you to create some painting of their ballerinas for their theater lobby."

"I'm no Degas…"

"Neither was Degas before he became _Degas_" she rationalized. "These are all commissioned works. They aren't paying you for Exhibition Bella, the are paying you for your style and craftsmanship not your artistic individuality or impressions."

She had a point there…

"Finally Aro Volturi has asked to commission you for an 'intimate portrait of his wife Sulpicia' of course all expenses will be paid."

"This job is in Italy as well?" I asked thinking immediately of Bella.

"Seems like it," she muttered riffling through papers again. "Although I really wonder what he means by 'an intimate portrait'. Maybe he wants you to paint Sulpicia like one of your French girls," she laughed and again I laughed with her at her reference to Rose and Jack from the Hollywood rendition of Titanic.

"I don't think I'd be very comfortable painting Aro's wife like one of the French girls" I laughed heartily.

"But seriously though, it's a really good offer. Aro is known to pay top dollar for his family portraits, every couple of years they hire a new up and coming artist to do them and that lucky artist literally gets put on the map. The painting goes down in history and in textbooks and is seen by thousands of people at their national archive in Volterra."

"I'll have to think about it."

If I go to Italy Bella might think I'm stalking her. But if I stay in Seattle she might resent me because I didn't chase after her like guys do in movies…

"Suit yourself, but I highly suggest you get away from Seattle for a bit, and I honestly think California is the place to do it. All those tan, blonde beach babes just calling your name" she teased.

"No thanks, I prefer my women pale, brunette, and bibliophilic" I rejected her while opening the door.

"I'll find someone for you then, I promise" she kissed me on the cheek goodbye. "Look through those letters and reply to a few, I'm sure your fans would love to hear from you."

I nodded, closed the door, and made my way to the kitchen for a drink. Tonight was a scotch kind of night. With my scotch in one hand and my envelopes in the other I sat down at the bar and rifled through the letters. I read a few that were very deep and understanding of the hidden nuances within my exhibition but the majority of the letters were on pink scented paper from teenage girls who drew hearts over the i's and wrote in shouty capitals: OOOOOOMMMMMGGGGG Edward you are like the cutest artist ever! If you don't marry Bella will you PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE marry me? I LOVE YOU!

I set aside the ones I enjoyed so I could reply to those at a later date and found a letter that's country of origin was Italy, which immediately piqued my interest. And when I read the return address I was dumbstruck.

It was from Bella.

I flipped it over and tore through the envelope revealing four papers folded pristinely on stationary that read _Isabella Swan_ at the top in fancy cursive script.

_Edward,_

_I received your letter a few days ago and I have to admit it surprised me. I wasn't expecting to hear from you after the way we left things. But after a few days of deliberation I thought it would be better for me to write you back. I figured if I wrote to your P.O. box instead of your penthouse address there was a greater chance that this letter could get lost in the shuffle with all the others, that perhaps you wouldn't read it at all. I hear celebrities have assistances that read their fan mail, since you're practically a celebrity you probably have someone reading this for you as well. _

_But if you are truly reading this then, hello. Just to get the awkwardness out of the way first I am not pregnant. Yes, the test was mine but it was negative I promise. Which is probably the best thing for both of us. I'm not ready to be a mother and you're not ready to be a father. Hell we both chose our careers over each other and look where that lead us… I'm shuffling books from a dusty old library to a shiny new library and you… well you're doing interviews with Katie Couric and hiding from paparazzi. I did see the interview and although I was mad at first I'm not anymore. I was angry with you because you were so honest and I realized it was stupid of me to be angry with you because of that. It was probably one of the reasons I fell in love with you. There were never any secrets between us. You were honest with me about how you felt then and you were honest in your interview. How could I possibly be mad about that? However I was mad that you equated me to Esther Greenwood. You couldn't have said Catharine Earnshaw at least?_

_You asked me in your letter how I was doing and I think I should tell you I'm getting on wonderfully. I adore Italy although my Italian is molto scarsa. I don't see much of Aro, the family lives in a residency section in the castle de Volterra and only family or approved guests are allowed there. I went there once when I first came to Italy for dinner and wine but when I'm not working I spend most of my time in the village. My home is in the village. It's about a ten-minute bike ride to the castle. It's a guest home of Aro's that they use as a residence for their temporary employees. Although at the moment I am the only one so I have the whole place to myself, which is pretty spectacular. A lady comes by every day and cleans and makes my bed and makes me breakfast. I try to speak to her but again my Italian is molto scarsa, so scarsa that I don't even know her name. The village is wonderful though. The people are so kind and welcoming and they have actual craftsmen here. Like carpenters and butchers and florists. It's like being transported back in time. And I'm telling you our local Whole Foods has nothing on the fruit here. It's so crisp and delicious I've found myself wanting nothing more than grapes all day, every day. Not including the wine. It's almost dangerous how enjoyable it tastes, its truly an experience in itself. _

_My work is very interesting. The Volturi's collection is absolutely breathtaking. Holding books from the 1600s or earlier is terrifying but awakening at the same time. Sometimes I have to pinch myself as a reminder that this is real life, that I am actually restoring and arranging the largest collection of classic literature and philosophy in the world. It is a once in a lifetime experience I'll never forget. _

_As for the money you sent me I really don't need it. It was your technique and skill that accumulated that money. All I did was sit and look pretty. Keep it. _

_You might want to consider shaving the mustache/beard combo you have going on. I believe something might have died in there. _

_Forever yours truly,_

_Bella _


End file.
